


Coup de Foudre

by bigcaratfool



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Royalty AU, Sickness, Slow Burn, mingyu centric mostly but kinda omniscient reader, old timey speak?, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-07-17 19:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 45,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16102463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigcaratfool/pseuds/bigcaratfool
Summary: coup de foudre - a sudden unexpected event, especially an emotional one; love at first sight.-Love blooms, sweet and delicate, like hydrangeas in the spring.Mingyu, The Prince of the Eastern Shores, bears not only a crown too heavy for his head but a heart larger than his land.





	1. In April, Beneath the Moon

The doux champagne and jovial music hold great influence over the lords and the ladies in attendance of what was most likely one of the most extravagant parties to ever be thrown. Some dance with whom they fancy, most drank with whom pleased their eyes, and it seemed as if there were more laughter to be held here than at any other occasion. Gold decor suit the palace in the land that was kissed by the sun, and the guests caroused in the sheer luxury of it all. Even those who hold governance, or had more than enough wealth to live in a place much larger, came to admire the sight. Music created by a small orchestra drifted through the air, breathing an intoxicating sway into the atmosphere. It is nothing short of a dreamlike night, and not one person was unaffected, including the father of the host. However, there was one who wasn’t entranced— the host himself wasn’t having that grand of a time.

 

Focusing on his father’s voice is an incredibly difficult thing to do when the din of conversation is so very constant. The hum of thousands of words from hundreds of different voices makes his head hurt a little bit, especially over that damned orchestra. He insisted upon only having a pianist, as piano music is his favorite….yet, his parents never listen, do they? They always go out of their way to be impressive, but seem humble….how? Hundreds of people are here, and it is absolutely no surprise that this turn out is all for Mingyu….well, in a way it is. His birthday celebration is also a matchmaking party held by his parents. Everybody knew it, as well. It’s high time for the successor of the throne to marry, and that’s why royals from every country present their princesses and princes to the young and powerful prince. It’s all very much like trainers showing off their best-in-show purebred dogs. Mingyu would much rather be with his dog right now. If only his attention span was long enough to hold conversation in such a busy room--

 

All jokes aside, Mingyu is perfectly capable and charming. From an outsider’s perspective, he is perfect. His sparkling eyes that light up whenever he speaks, that canine-esque smile, his endearing speech patterns...everything about Mingyu screams royalty, elegance, and perfection. Even when he is just making casual conversation, he comes off as excessively dashing. Perhaps it is because he has grown so carefully loved, or maybe it’s because he’s powerful, the next in line to the largest kingdom in the allied lands. 

“You know that they’re only paying attention to me because I’m the heir, right, father?”   


Mingyu cuts his father off with a striking point; he didn’t want to be seen as nothing more than money and gold and power...land and weapons. He wanted to be seen as Mingyu. Not Prince Mingyu of the Eastern Shores, but Mingyu. Kim Mingyu, who so loves sunrises and his dog, who would give anything to have a nice, early breakfast by the sea in the morning. Kim Mingyu who laughs in the most obnoxious ways and slaps his leg when he laughs too hard at something that isn’t particularly funny, who has the slightest lisp to his words and finds himself blushing at the way he sounds (almost unprincely, imagine the horror!). Being nothing more than a statistic bothered the hell out of him. Mingyu sighs, running a hand through his hair. Nothing troubles the young prince more than these events, and he wished that he had the luxury of not caring.

 

He gives his rambling father a glance before walking off, only to pass by the window to the gardens. He catches a glimpse of a figure sitting by the fountain. A moment of confusion strikes him. 

 

_ Why is someone outside when the party is obviously here-? _

 

Based on attire only, he seemed to be someone of high standing. The tumultuous medallions and dark red sash is a dead giveaway. Mingyu squinted harder, upper lip crinkling in focus as he observed further. The man did not seem to have that broad of a stature, like most princes had. In fact, he looked ghastly pale and equally as frail in the light of the moon. Despite this, as the moonlight sunk into his skin, there was something otherworldly about the solemn figure. He was beautiful, and strikingly so. Looking at him was like looking at an oil painting of a melancholy spirit. Something, either curiosity or pity, drives him outdoors. 

 

“Good evening!” Mingyu calls out as he walks into the gardens, a hand in the air and a smile on his face. “I haven’t met you yet!”

 

He offers the kindest of smiles, one that roses could blossom from, and offers his raised hand, bowing.

 

The man stood as swiftly, his cane plunging against the stone ground with its signature heavy timbre. He stood up straight as he met the eyes of the host, who was a bit surprised to see that the man was nearly as tall as himself. 

“Ah, It must be rude of me, only addressing you now.” He bows his head slowly, crossing a fist over his chest to lay on his heart. Quite old fashioned, Mingyu thinks, before zoning back in as the man speaks again. The stranger offers a soft grin, moving to rest both of his hands firmly on his ornate cane. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. I am Sir Wonwoo of the Jeon family, presiding over the West.”

“Oh! You’re Wonwoo!” Mingyu chimes, surprise spreading over his features. 

 

Wonwoo raises a brow. “You’ve heard of me?”

 

“Of course! I’ve been hearing of your country and your family since I was a boy. Good things!” 

 

Well, some good things. He only really heard about the value of the land and how beautiful the sunflower fields were. He’s heard about the strength of their Queen, who bore the weight of the crown all on her own. He hadn’t heard many good things about Wonwoo himself. He seemed to be a man of myth, presumably quarantined or secretly dead. It was truly fascinating to see the man before him. 

 

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, and Mingyu guesses that he probably wants to know exactly what Mingyu’s heard, but he doesn’t have an answer. He turns towards his manor, facing away to hide how awkward he feels.

 

“Have you been enjoying the evening?” 

 

“Oh... Yes. This is the first party I’ve been able to attend in quite some time. I’m honored to be invited. Thank you.” 

 

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad. Good times seem to be plentiful tonight.” There’s a pause as Mingyu looks into a distant window, fleeting images of people dancing with each other passing by. “What brings you out here?” 

 

“What brings  _ you _ out here?” Wonwoo asks. 

 

“It’s.. stuffy in there. Loud, too.” 

 

He thinks about how many people have asked him “is your father  _ still  _ alive?” or “has he passed away yet?” knowing full well that the reason is because they want to watch him fail and plot against him. It’s tiring and overdramatic. Mingyu settles into silence for only a moment, his mind already working ahead of him. He nearly forgets to breathe before he speaks again. 

 

“I wanted to escape, so I came here. The gardens are my favorite place in the palace… Have you looked around at all?”   
  


The royal of the west stares out at the garden. “I didn’t know if it would be rude of me to look around.” 

 

“I’d be happy if you wanted to look, actually!”

 

Mingyu notices the cane. Ah. Maybe that’s not the best idea. His hands begin to move erratically as his brain scrambles for another option.

 

“Or, if you want, we could just talk...I’d like to talk to you, actually, you seem a lot calmer than some of the ravenous guests in there. Trust me, you don’t want to see the way they look at me. I’ve never felt like a piece of meat before today!”

 

“It’s alright,” Wonwoo laughs, a deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest. “I think I’ve kept you long enough. I’m more than pleased with just the chance to thank you for allowing me to attend. Surely I couldn’t ask you to humor me longer.” 

 

“Humor you? Please,” Mingyu replies, shaking his head. “You’re a relief. Like I said, I’m nothing more than a centerpiece tonight.”

 

“In that case... Your garden puts mine to shame.” Wonwoo turns on his heel, cane swinging before him. “What lovely hydrangeas you have...” 

 

“Oh, you like them? I had to convince our gardener to grow them for years,” Mingyu

gives the plants a rather proud look, staring to follow the man. He makes note of how fragrant the air is because of the hydrangeas, just like he had said a million times to the gardeners.

 

This garden was a place of solace, as all nature tended to be. Perfectly shaped hedges outlined the perimeter of the garden, and willows hid small fountains behind cascading leaves. Not a single leaf was unswept from the clean path lined by rose bushes. A variety of colorful tulips speckled around vividly golden daffodils, and lavender to contrast such loud colors. 

 

For each beautiful plant, Mingyu had a memory. Under those grand, weeping trees, maids would host tea parties for the imaginative boy. He would lie between tulips and rest, even if it meant his mother being angry with him for soiling his clothes. He would pluck roses for the reluctant gardeners and spend days in the plush grasses drawing. The hydrangeas his mother always so longed to grow, soft and beautiful at any time of day, began to bloom a year after her death. He wept before these sweet trees on her birthday. 

 

Reminiscing, he sighs. Wonwoo looks over his shoulder for a moment, and Mingyu perks up again to save face. His eyes land upon an empty spot by the entry fountain.

 

“I don’t know what to put there,” he says. “It’s a shame, too. I feel that this place would be complete if only I had one more little bloom there...”

 

Wonwoo stops, and Mingyu almost bumps into him, but he steps back and simply watches Wonwoo think. 

 

“Calla lilies? Maybe anemones, perhaps white roses… Ah-“ He’s quickly cut off by the onset of a coughing fit, and he turns away to hack dryly into his arm. It was as if one display of weakness was enough for the rest of the man to begin breaking down, because the coughing did not cease. In fact, it looked as if Wonwoo was starting to shake. 

 

Mingyu steps to the side and tries to make his way to the front of Wonwoo, nearly placing a hand upon his shoulder before Wonwoo raises a sharp hand up, blocking the path. Mingyu retracts immediately. 

 

“Do excuse me.” His voice immediately sounded coarse and heavy with damage. “It seems that my cold hasn’t completely let go of me yet.”

 

“Do you want me to show you to a room to rest..? I’ve got plenty.”

 

“Obviously. But I’m fine. I should probably leave soon, I’d hate to burden you or make anyone ill.” 

 

“You’d leave so early? The night has only begun.” Mingyu’s brows furrow. 

 

“...It’s your party, is it not? You should enjoy it to the fullest. I’m more than content with even seeing this place and mingling for a moment.”

 

“It’s not my party, technically, it’s my father’s,” Mingyu mumbles. “If it were my choice, I would rather host a small gathering with people I actually know. This?” He makes a motion with his hand to his palace. “Far too gaudy.” 

 

Mingyu shuffles on his feet slightly to face Wonwoo more properly, holding his hand out to the prince before him. 

 

“If you leave soon, than I’d like to make an impression before you do. Perhaps you’ll come back to stay later at my next event?” 

 

Wonwoo simply stands, a subdued look of shock in his eyes. Had the man never been asked to return before? Preposterous! Not when Wonwoo looks the way that he does. Not when—

 

_ Oh, God _ .

 

In that moment, he realizes how absolutely gorgeous Wonwoo is when he sees the moonlight hit his face- the high points on his face gleaming under the soft white light, his lips parted just so, looking more delicious than the ripest of fruits. Ink-black hair swept across his forehead, bangs hanging before his impossibly deep eyes. Eyes whose shine make the twinkling stars seem lackluster, and depth that the night sky so wishes it could recreate.

 

_ Are angels real? _

 

Has he met one in this garden? Perhaps; he’s heard of many stranger things. Meeting an angel seems plausible. The romantic and imaginative young man that he is, he decides that Wonwoo won’t leave until he’s been impressed. 

 

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you around.” 

 

Mingyu would expect a man with a cane to be slow, but it was quite the opposite. Had it not been for Wonwoo not knowing this place, Mingyu is sure he would’ve been the one trailing behind. Wonwoo moves at brisk pace, his cane thudding against the ground with each stride. 

 

Mingyu shows him around the rest of his broad gardens. In this month of April, many flowers were beginning to bloom as fragrant beauties in their youth. From a distance he points out his favorite spots in his backyard, His favorite trees and the stable he keeps his prized horses. He essentially talks Wonwoo’s ears off, but the man does not interrupt or silence him once. Eventually, he leads his guest back to another wing of the outside of the palace. All is fine until they come along a grand stone staircase, thick steps leading up to a second floor balcony. 

 

“Would you mind lending me your arm?” Wonwoo asks, taking only a small glance at the other.

 

“Not at all, your highness.” Mingyu holds his arm out for Wonwoo, suave as he tilts his head in Wonwoo’s direction. 

Wonwoo links his arm with the younger’s, mumbling an “alright” when his cane is held under his arm and he’s prepared. Mingyu can tell just by showing the man around his backyard that Wonwoo prefers to be independent, and rightfully so. He’s a capable and strong despite his frame. Mingyu is already a bit taken with him. He talks again, just so that he doesn’t focus on this. 

 

“Ah, Sir Wonwoo, if you’d like to go to more parties, then come to mine. My father throws far too many of them for his own good.”

 

“I’ll consider it.”

 

They end up in the library quickly- It’s a large room, and the soft glow of candles that illuminate the room makes Mingyu sigh with relief. It’s warm, comforting, not too hot like the ballroom stuffed with bodies.

 

“Make yourself at home.”

 

Wonwoo nods, separating himself from Mingyu and taking in the view of the deep maroon walls contrasting bright gold shelves, which in turn accentuate each white pillar that separates the broad shelves from one another. 

 

“Must you continue to outdo me? Even this place is magnificent.” 

 

Mingyu watches as Wonwoo slows down, observing the many leather bound books. A lean finger traces the edge of the shelves, as if that could help him see any better through his silver spectacles. 

 

“Show me your favorites.” 

 

Mingyu stands in front of a bookcase and tilts his head to the side for a moment. This is difficult. His favorites? Well…

 

He talks a lot for someone who was never very taken with books. He was always better at calvary matters, horses and sword fighting and duels and simple sport. He knows just enough about certain books to babble on, mostly recommending books his own mother practically forced him into. 

 

“How sensitive of you. We have similar tastes.” Wonwoo grins, turning away from the books to lock eyes with Mingyu just for a second. He freezes. Maybe he should have a cane too, with Wonwoo’s sharp eyes making him weak in the knees.

 

“S-Splendid.” 

 

Wonwoo doesn’t shy away, and his grin quirks wider in the slightest. Then, beyond Mingyu’s belief, the man erupts, talking on and on about his favorite books. The various romances he’s read, the fantastical epics he immerses himself into, the lessons he’s learned from pages of books aged and modern... Wonwoo looked so cold outdoors, but in here, he burned brighter than a candle. 

 

“Do you have that here? If not, I can send you a copy.” 

 

“E-Er. I don’t believe so,” Mingyu splutters, hand coming up to scratch at his own neck as he looks towards any shelf. “I would love to read it.” Whatever it was. 

 

Wonwoo gives a pleasant llittle hum in response, and Mingyu fidgets with one of his own medallions as he burns holes into the side of the other’s face. A thought passes through his lips no later than it passes through his mind.

 

“Sir Jeon, have many people sent you propositions of marriage?”

 

Wonwoo jolts away from a shelf and laughs, obviously surprised. 

 

“What kind of..?” He looks over at Mingyu, bewilderment riddling his gaze for a moment before his face returns to his usual pleasant neutral. “Not many. Only business propositions to take my land after my death. It’s not like I have suitors lining up at my doors, either.” 

 

“After your death..? And no one has looked to see the life in your eyes?” Mingyu’s eyebrows knit together. “I think we’re in a similar situation, you and I. People overlook me and only see the land, people overlook you and only see the land. Frustrating, isn’t it?”

 

“But people enjoy trying to speak with you.” Wonwoo shuts a book slowly, showing it respect as he slides it back into its place. “Everyone stares at me with the same eyes, as if they’re watching me make my way to my own funeral. They won’t wait for me to expire, already looking upon me with such pity..”

 

Mingyu sighs. “You deserve better.”

 

Wonwoo waves his hand, dismissing the topic. 

 

“You’re a dashing and a healthy man. Unlike myself, you’ll find someone to marry soon. You can have your pick of whomever you fancy.” 

 

“Wonderful. So I’ve got a choice of self-concerned women and men who’ll lie with those women behind my back.” 

 

“You don’t seem very optimistic.” 

 

“Should I be?” Mingyu rolls his eyes, leaning against a pillar.

 

“The future is something someone should always look forward to,” Wonwoo says firmly, pinning Mingyu in place with only his eyes. “You don’t know what glories await beyond your vision.” 

 

Mingyu doesn’t even feel offended that he was spoken to in such a succinct manner. Instead, he feels reverent, like God himself had spoken. He grins. 

 

“Do you think good things are waiting for me?” 

 

“I do. I believe that good things await for everyone.” 

 

“I believe I’ve encountered the first glorious thing you speak of.” 

 

“And what would that be?” 

 

“Decent company, in the form of you.” 

 

Wonwoo smiles, wide, brilliant, sparkling... And Mingyu suddenly hears music again instead of the rumble of too many voices speaking at once. 

 

“I believe we should make our way back down to the party. The music has returned.” 

 

Wonwoo nods, moving the cane from under his arm and into his hand. 

 

“As you wish, good host.” 

 

Mingyu leads Wonwoo through hallways, and offers his arm again when they reach the main staircase. Wonwoo declines this time, holding onto the railway and staring out at the crowd. Almost immediately, Mingyu is pulled into a conversation he’d rather abstain from and loses sight of Wonwoo in the chaos. He’s tossed from group to group, joining conversations as quickly as he leaves them. Unwillingly, time passes, and Mingyu does not see Wonwoo in any of his conversations. So many guests, so many conversations, and not once does he catch a glimpse of Wonwoo again. 

 

It’s a while later Mingyu spots Wonwoo once more, in a corner with a glass in hand and his cane tucked tightly under his arm. His eyes dart from crowds to the door, but completely still with body. Almost as if he has his own orbit, no one approaches him, and he does not approach anyone else. These people turn their eyes away from the sun, blind of his magnificence. 

 

So Mingyu charges forth with his wax wings of faith, quick feet gliding over marble floors, maneuvering past absurdly large dresses to stand before that sparkling Wonwoo again. 

 

“Before this night ends, I’d like to speak with you once more.” 

 

“Sir Kim, it’s likely I’ll leave soon. My health, you see, doesn’t allow me to linger.” 

 

“Then dance with me, Sir Jeon, even if only for one song.” 

 

“I’m not a man for a spritely dance.” 

 

“Wait for me here then. I’ll- I’ll be right back.” Mingyu hops on one foot backwards, both hands making a motion, practically begging Wonwoo to stay put. He moves quickly so that no one bothers him (even though he nearly collides into every guest) until he can find his father. He needs only mutter one sentence for his father to understand.  

 

“Slow the music down, I have someone I’d like to dance with.” 

 

The king, overjoyed, makes haste in giving the order. An old man’s haste is just enough time for Mingyu to make his way back to Wonwoo. The grandiose orchestra finally dies down, and softly, piano begins to ring through the room. 

 

Then Wonwoo looks panicked, because eyes are following Mingyu. The room nearly parts in entirety for the man, and when Mingyu stops before Wonwoo, a cacophony of whispers distort the gentle piano. 

 

“Sir Kim, please, I don’t - I’m not one to dance.” 

 

“Sure you are. I’ll lead.” Mingyu smiles with his best image, shining and charming, outstretching his hand. 

 

“No, I... I only know how to lead.” 

 

Mingyu laughs, loud, ringing along with the piano, startling a nearby woman. 

 

“Ah, that’s all I know, too! How fun. We’ll figure it out together, then.” 

 

It’s beyond Mingyu’s comprehension, but Wonwoo takes his hand. He also sets a hand on Mingyu’s hip, which makes him laugh more. He sets a hand on Wonwoo’s hip as well, and raises their evenly clasped hands in the air. It’s the furthest thing from a graceful dance, but as they stumble across the floor, Mingyu enjoys himself. Metal clinks against metal and toes bump against toes time and time again. Mingyu’s disturbance of a laugh crescendos into a cackle as Wonwoo trips over his feet, and they decrescendo into soft giggles when Wonwoo gives him embarrassed, pink-cheeked glares. Eventually Wonwoo’s grip on Mingyu loosens, so Mingyu holds Wonwoo tighter, holding him closer, lending the other his strength. 

 

“What piece is this?” Wonwoo asks quietly, learning into Mingyu’s ear. 

 

“I believe it’s Clair de Lune,” Mingyu replies, leaning in to brush his lips against the other’s ear.

 

“...I’ll be sure to remember it. Thank you.” 

 

Eventually, Mingyu is the only one leading the dance, with Wonwoo following along as best as he can manage. Mingyu has always been known to flaunt, especially with a dancing partner that knows well the steps, but with Wonwoo he is careful. He slows when he hears Wonwoo breathing a bit harder, naturally following the other’s condition. It gets to a point where the two are hardly moving, Mingyu only swaying the both of them as Wonwoo clings on. Eventually the song fades, and so Mingyu steps back from Wonwoo, releasing him, and bows as deeply as he can, a closed fist over his chest. Wonwoo follows suit, his cane giving one loud  _ clunk  _ to the floor. The finality of the sound hangs in the air, but as soon as the two are straightened up again, another song begins to play. There’s no applause, only a rush to the floor as people grab each other to dance once more. Mingyu just makes a motion with his head and begins walking, giving signal to Wonwoo to follow.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve willingly subjected the both of us to such embarrassment,” Wonwoo groans the moment the two arrive outside, a hand over his heart. 

 

Mingyu laughs, “Ah, it was fun though. I enjoyed dancing with you.” 

 

He goes on down the stairs, skipping and smiling and taking in the fresh breeze. Wonwoo stands back, watching, biting back a smile. 

 

“You’re a ridiculous man.” 

 

Mingyu turns on his heel, looking up at Wonwoo, a song in his voice. “I’m a romantic, I’m sure you know the difference, my friend.” 

 

Wonwoo stills entirely, and Mingyu blinks. 

 

“Why do you look so surprised?” 

 

“...I’ve never made a friend so easily.” 

 

This, Mingyu is shocked by. He had requested so personally that he wished to dance, calling all attention to Wonwoo, and the man calls them  _ friends _ . It makes Mingyu giggle like a child. Wonwoo is so lovely. He’s easily the kindest and most interesting person he’s spoken to for months, maybe years. As Mingyu stands, dumb in thought, Wonwoo makes his way down the stairs and has an attendant call for his carriage. It isn’t until the carriage begins pulling up that Mingyu snaps out of it and races down the rest of the way. 

 

“I’ll send you another invitation as soon as I can— No, that’s not soon enough. I’ll write to you.” 

 

“You’ll what?” 

 

“I want to keep in contact with you. With your permission, of course. May I write to you?” 

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, and Mingyu smiles, hopeful. 

 

“...Of course you may.” 

 

The carriage pulls up, and Mingyu offers to help Wonwoo get in, but Wonwoo declines. Mingyu does grab for Wonwoo’s hand once more, with the instinct to kiss it as he would for anyone he had thought to court, but he instead grins a final time and lets his hand go. 

 

But the warmth lingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nice to meet you, er, again. sort of. does anyone even remember anything i've posted before? probably not. my bad.
> 
> this is inspired by someone toxic in my life, someone horrible and cruel and awful, but still i remember them fondly. it's odd to follow through and write it, but this idea, this au was always something i loved more than they had. so i'll reclaim this. just like i'll try to reclaim the confidence i used to have for writing.
> 
> i've already got the plot to this finished. i really will try to keep this one up for real this time.


	2. Letter One

_ To Sir Jeon Wonwoo,  _

 

_ I hope my letter has found you in due time. Hosting such large parties can be such a burden when the guests choose to linger. I am glad that I have been blessed with the time to sit down and focus on one thing after days of running around ceaselessly. Though I must warn you, I am not very good at staying on topic. Ah, I was the one who wanted to write to you, but I’m not quite sure where to start… I suppose I’ll talk about my day. I woke up at dawn and made my way down to the beach with my beloved Aji. She nearly drowns herself every time we go to the beach, but she loves to roll around in the sand. Have I mentioned her to you? She’s my dog. I know not what breed she is, nor do I really care, but I think she’s beautiful. The maids sometimes refer to her as a gremlin (oh, how that wounds me), even though Aji is more affectionate with them than she ever has been with me! I’m sure she loves me though. No one else takes her on sunrise walks like I do. I’ve raised her with every ounce of my soul yet still she runs from me… Sir Jeon, do you know what it’s like to have your heart ignored? Aji is a cruel woman… An absolute fiend who tramples my heart with tiny paws... But I love her so.  _

_ My apologies. I seem to have rambled on about her, but how could I not when she is so adorable? She’s quick and smart, and she always seems to know where to hide when she’s made trouble. It’s admirable how much she is able to ruin in such small amounts of time. She strains the maids poor hearts; but on days where I haven’t yet found a reason to smile, Aji standing trial before the maids will never fail to make me laugh. Innocent is she who gives her master joy! Not only is she lovely within, but she has such big, black eyes, and her fur reminds me of the snow. I’ve always wanted to see her against the snow, but I’m afraid that I would lose her! Alas, that may be an unattainable dream, as it doesn’t snow where I live. I believe that once during my travels I saw snow on the mountaintops of your country. What is your kingdom like? Does it usually snow there? Tell me as much as you can. In turn, I’ll tell you about where I live. You’ve only seen it a bit, right? I’ll try not to be repetitive. _

_ As the ruler of the largest kingdom in the Allied lands, it would not be a wild assumption to think that the city is ever-bustling to the point that it is exhausting for those at the helm. With so many people coming and going, there is always new business suddenly springing forth, but leaving just as quickly. In this era of peace, citizenship has become less of a worry in my country. We have open borders, and if visitors are coming from distant lands, my kingdom is often the first place they will become acquainted with. Because of this, my family has made it a goal to make my kingdom a welcoming place. Everything from our cities to our shores are supposed to be lively, warm, and welcoming. There are many places that I adore. I truly love the beach. Besides my garden, I hold the beach closest to my heart. Though most of the coast has become a hub for trade,  there are some times of the day where it’s not so busy. It is incredibly cleansing to be on an empty beach in the early hours of the morning, when the only sound are the waves gently rolling onto the shore. Nature gives the world such sweet lullabies. When I was a boy, I spent a lot of time collecting sea glass and seashells. I used to have quite the collection! I thought that if I could collect enough, I could become a pirate… Even though I’ve grown, and my swashbuckling dreams have long faded, my favorite sight in the world remains the morning sun as it first rises over the sea. It’s magnificent to witness the dark sky changing hue until it reaches a final bright blue. Like this, it is as if the whole world is sparkling with the sea. I’ve always wanted to enjoy that sight with someone. I used to go with my mother whenever I could wake her up, but she was a woman who loved her sleep, so those days were very far and few inbetween. Now, it is only Aji and I, but I can only take her to the shore. Other places that I frequent aren’t as private as the beach is. I’m sure Aji would be overwhelmed if I tried to take her into town. I don’t visit the town as much as I’d like to. My portrait has become popular, for reasons unbeknownst to me, but it’s made it quite difficult to be hidden! When I can, I’ll cloak myself and visit merchants to pick up new and interesting things or sit and enjoy pastries from local bakeries. It is usually a bit colder in the springtime than it is currently, but on particularly chilly days I love to have freshly baked goods and spiced ciders. There’s an absolutely wonderful little bakery, hidden behind several austere buildings, that crafts the loveliest of treats. Those good and kind bakers even you a fresh biscuit for simply visiting! I haven’t been there in a while, though… I have been so busy with legal matters and duties of the crown that I have been unable to enjoy much of anything. I’d love to visit a warm bakery soon, even if it isn’t quite the season for pastries and ciders anymore. I don’t deny that my cooks are wonderful, but there is more authenticity in goods purchased from humble shops rather than made for you on command. Ah, I’ve made myself hungry… I want fresh bread... What a glutton I have become!  _

_ I truly hope you do not find reading this to be a tedious task! It is just so pleasant to be able to write on my own terms. Usually when I write, it is for a speech, or to prepare a decree, or pledging my name to any given matter. It is a bit therapeutic to write to you now, even though I have never found much joy in writing before. Maybe this is a sign that I am aging? Perhaps I am simply excited for this message to be beheld by its intended recipient! I have always preferred drawing or painting to writing, but the very idea of having someone read my words, written sincerely from my pen, makes me feel warm… I have written carefully, Sir Jeon. I hope that you look upon my words with favor. _

_ Say, do you hear voices when you read? I do! I have my whole life, even if I know not what the author sounds like. Ah, I feel as if I can already hear your voice even though you haven’t replied yet! You have a very distinct voice;  it’s deep, but it’s not ominous or threatening. It’s very smooth and the way you speak is so gentle… It doesn’t seem like you strain to have a booming voice like most royalty does. I’ve always been ruffled by that. There’s absolutely no reason to shout all of the time! Sometimes sitting through council meetings feels more like I am sitting through a trial. If people spoke with more care, perhaps with a bit softer of a cadence like you do, I wouldn’t suffer at length during hearings or meetings. Ah, sorry. I have trailed away from what I had meant to talk about. Voices! I often attempt to memorize the things that I believe are special about people. However as time slips away from me more, I have found it harder to remember people. Lately, there have been so many faces in passing, so many names I have uttered, and yet the names mean nothing to me, and those faces will remain unfamiliar. It’s sad, but I suppose it’s something I will have to become used to. I don’t think you will have to worry about that though! You’re memorable, to say the absolute least. You may have left a bit of an impression on me. I hope that whenever I see you next, you will allow me to dance with you once more. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed dancing as much as I had with you. Dancing has become such a formality at such occasions, I’ve forgotten how to enjoy the art of dance until we threw the concept of art straight out of the window! Such fun I’ve had with you, Sir Jeon. I am curious about you. Should I be considered a crude man to voice such interest? . _

_ Oh, my! I’ve already taken up so many pages! I’m sure that you’ve got many things on your plate. Please don’t feel pressured to swiftly respond. I will be delighted to simply receive a letter in return. I hope to hear from you! May the winds deliver luck upon your land. _

 

_ Signed,  _

_ Sir. Kim Mingyu the First, _

_ Prince of the Eastern Shores _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> letters are short but will get longer as things get rollin'. also expect letters to be posted pretty close to each other and actual chapters to take a lil' bit longer!  
> wonwoo's response letter is coming in like, a day, maybe two.  
> thanks for reading


	3. Letter Two

_ To Sir Kim Mingyu,  _

 

_ I will apologize in advance for my lacking penmanship. If you cannot read what I have written, do tell me. I will have someone write for me if needed. Unfortunately, my hands shake and I cannot write for long periods of time lest my handwriting becomes entirely illegible. However, as long as you send letters, I will do my best to reply however the method.  _

_ You flatter me, Sir Kim. My voice is not something I thought to consider myself proud of, but I suppose I should begin if you find so much favor with it. When you wrote about hearing voices as you read, I felt like we were truly holding a conversation. The way you write is exactly the way you speak. You are incredibly effervescent. I enjoyed reading what you had sent me. Though, one day I would like for you to send me a drawing of yours. I wonder what sort of things that you are able to create! I cannot draw whatsoever, try as I might. I’m a bit heavy-handed. Nonetheless, I consider myself creative. I like to write poems on occasion, but I am reserved about the contents of my writing. I’m not sure my heart would allow me to share something I’ve written; I fear that it would entirely stop! Though I’ve been trained in many things, I lack the confidence to flaunt what I have created. This timid and gentle force in my chest is easily stirred, you see. When I do present what I have written, it is for the same reasons as you. Though I am not entirely sure that my court reads what I have written… I simply want what is best for my country, and I will continue to strive until I meet my goals. No amount of unread orders from a careless court will sway me. _

_ This country I protect, my beloved kingdom, is very beautiful. Greenery is plentiful in my land, and a variety of plants are able to thrive here due to the rich soil and the clean air. I would like to believe that it is my ancestors doing. Hundreds of years ago when this land was pagan, my people were known for their devout praise to nature. Though this land is no longer religious, we still hold festivals for every season. Our smallest festival, Aughtnestur, is for food, harvest, and the welcoming of Autumn. During this time, the leaves on our plentiful trees begin to change color. It seems that many artists enjoy travelling here during that season, because on the high hills, I can see packs of them painting the colorful trees. When the seasons change and our lakes freeze over and begin to blend with the mountains that hide behind thick snow, that is when we hold our Wintungen festival. For two weeks in late December, a lively festival begins to give us warmth in the cold. Ice sculptures are a staple of this festival, and they are probably my favorite part. You, a man of sport, might enjoy the snow-based games that many engage in! It’s admirable how the warmest of competition can sprout in the most bitter cold. Then, in late March, the kingdom celebrates Grendanea, to welcome spring and to give back to the land. Many begin to grow their own gardens around this time of year, and precious light-bugs spring forth with the flowers. Pests they might be, but they are beautiful in the night as they glitter along with the stars. Our largest festival lasts an entire month, starting in Mid-May and ending in Mid-June. This is our Sunfluery festival. Sunfluery is likely the festival that I treasure most. Although I am usually bedridden for most holidays, I always participate in Sunfluery festivities even if I can only withstand a few hours. Every sight, scent, and song, is absolutely wonderful. The essence of joy is palpable as sunflower fields awaken from their slumber and the whole kingdom follows suit by becoming one with the golden flowers. Yellow becomes everyone’s favorite color in that month! Afterwards it is like the color doesn’t exist outside of the sunflower fields! In fact, yellow isn’t seen around here for months afterwards. However, I never tire of the color. It brings such happy memories… _

_ If you find yourself free during Sunfluery season, I’d be honored if you came to experience our festival! The travel here may prove to be burdensome, as many people come to partake in our Sunfluery festivities. My country is common for trade between other regions, but it seems that we are renown for our festivals by the common man! I’m touched that so many people receive happiness from these festivals. I am truly thankful for each artist that comes and immortalizes a moment of my land in paint. I relish in the poems that brilliant authors make while spending time here. I wish the best among those who simply visit and stay here for a moment. That way, this small land won’t be forgotten. Our traditions are too rich, too entwined with the love of our history, to be bought out or taken and sullied by lands who do not understand. I’ve heard many times that our festivals are just ways to make my kingdom seem richer and more powerful than we really are. It is entirely untrue. We simply want to enjoy life, as our ancestors did, and as I hope future generations will.  _

_ Does your country have any traditions that you hold dear? It doesn’t have to be to the extent of mine, of course. Joy can be found in even the smallest of moments. I find joy each day I step outside and soak in a bit of sun. I agree with you about the sun being the most beautiful sight to see in the morning. Whereas you look onto the shining sea, I look upon bright dewdrops that glisten under warm and brilliant rays. Beauty exists in everything, if one is wise enough to look… Though I may not look it, I am an optimist. But do not take me for a fool! I will quickly extinguish anything that dares harm the peace and happiness that I hold dear.  _

_ However, I cannot extinguish the ache my wrist is quickly developing. I look forward to hearing from you next, and do tell me if you would like to attend the Sunfluery festival.  _

 

_ Signed,  _

_ Sir. Jeon Wonwoo,  _

_ Prince of the Western Tradelands _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next few chapters might take me a hot minute, sorry if u actually read or care vaguely about this lol i have midterms soon


	4. In May, at Sunset

There’s a mocking huff near Mingyu’s ear, “I’m glad I offered not to read that for you. From what peasant is that from? What unfortunate pen had to deal with such unsightly handwriting?”

 

Mingyu traces a finger over the crisp, pure white parchment, painted with varied splotches of ink from an unsteady hand. For reasons he would rather not pry, he finds the handwriting endearing. Unlike the gaudy swirl that most royalty had been taught to write with, the plainness of the scrawl refreshing. Although it’s squiggly and jagged, he can only imagine the time, effort, and strength it took to write such a long message. The words of his advisor disturb his moment of joy. In honestly, he’s a little bit offended even though he’s only the recipient of the letter.

 

“Such heavy judgement spoken from those crusted lips, Aroien,” Mingyu jokes, nudging his advisor’s arm, “Shall I behead the man who slandered a dear friend of mine?”

 

“Behead?” Aroien scoffs, “You could not even harm the knight you recently jousted!”

 

“I threw that greedy knight from his horse, that’s harm enough for me to win.” Mingyu shrugs as he neatly folds the papers back into the envelope, sealed with purple wax that proudly displayed the Crest of the Western royalty. He placed the letter in the deep inner breast pocket of his fine linen coat, keeping the letter safe from any foreseeable harm. 

 

With his tired heart now relaxed, he turns his face out of the window to gaze at his land. The grandiose gates of the palace were no longer small in the distance, and the noise of the city grew faint as the distance from the town increased. Here, there was only ever-blowing uncut wheatgrasses, like the golden hair of a young maiden. Cattails and frizzy bushes lined the tall hill the carriage rode upon. Near the horizon, at the end of the expanse of Mingyu’s vision, that blazing orange marigold that hung so lowly in the sky neared the sea, illuminating a sliver of the dark rolling waters of the deep. A scene as common as the sunset never seemed to age, it’s beauty only becoming greater with each passing season. It’s a sight Mingyu has admired his whole life-- he wonders if the sunset is just as brilliant in the West. 

 

He’s sucked back into the lull of his thoughts, the newest letter swirling around in his mind like the sweetest of melodies. Sir Jeon had painted such an idyllic vision in his head of what that far Western land might be like…

 

Suddenly, he doesn’t care much about the picturesque sight of his own familiar sunset anymore. The gold of his own treasured land had begun to fade, and he sought the green of an unseen land. His dreams are sure to be swarmed with bright sunflower fields and booming festivals, during a night’s rest or a day’s wary travel. He longs to experience the unique; The nonnative sights unknown to him. 

 

“I wish to go to Sunfluery in June.” Mingyu speaks, turning his head towards his advisor who would surely judge his action. 

 

His advisor, an aged, apple-shaped glutton of a man, never fails to hold back a scathing look of displeasure. Even now, Aroien’s upper lip is crunched as if he’s smelling something foul, and his unkempt, wiry gray eyebrows are knitted together like tapestry woven far too tightly. 

 

“Sunfluery?” 

 

“Yes. A festival held in the central West. The Tradelands, specifically.” 

 

“Too far.” Aroien flicks a wrist, completely dismissing the topic. 

 

Mingyu’s face contorts unhappily. Aroien must’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young, to have such an all-consuming desire to see the world. 

 

“And what of distance? We have fine horses. Our carriages are well built. I see no issue with going!” Mingyu defends passionately, like a criminal pleading for mercy in a court, as he always does. 

 

Aroien is no doubt tired of this sort of banter, clenching his fists, puffing through his lips, and rolling his eyes to keep what little composure that short-tempered man has. For a right-hand man, he isn’t matched quite well with the young heir. 

 

“Have you forgotten the many matters you must attend to? The duties you are sworn to take care of? You are the Crown Prince! You still have so many things to accomplish before having even a passing dream about sitting on the throne, yet that time approaches more swiftly than I know  _ you  _ are prepared for. If you wish to have time to go parading, you must have time to work harder.” 

 

“And what have we done today?” Mingyu crosses his arms. “I’ve served our country plenty in just a single day. I may be slow to work, but I am always punctual in completion!” 

 

“I do not wish to speak with you of this matter any further. I’m tired. If it’s permission you seek, I suggest you visit your father’s chambers and ask him directly. ” The advisor sighs, scooting downwards in his seat and spreading his legs, making it clear that he wants to rest in silence. 

 

“Really,” Mingyu huffs, “You devastate even my simplest of wishes.” 

 

Mingyu gives a shake of his shoulders, expelling his negative energy through the action. Life is too short to be angry, and he’s sure his father will understand… His father was quite the rebel in his day, perhaps he would sympathize with Mingyu’s desire to live a little. 

 

His father had told him many tales of his life before-- stories of his raging parties and his relentless pursuits of glory. A man of the common people, popular with women and men, and yet he was a shining paradigm of knighthood and grace. Coming from a large royal family, he had all of the time in the world to scamp about and cause a ruckus, as he was not the eldest. When the King was only a youthful prince, he was notorious for adventure, and at times, an egregious lifestyle. He lived as he wanted to, mainly because he wasn’t supposed to be King. He simply ended up being the favorite of Mingyu’s Grandfather, and despite tradition of the eldest receiving inheritance, was eventually crowned so that the ever popular prince could lead his people into happiness.

 

It’s much different for Mingyu. Born the only son of the royal family, he’s spent his entire life preparing for the moment that the weight of the golden crown which measured the might of his country would be placed upon his head. He’d grown sheltered, as plots to assassinate the young heir began long before his birth. As history tells, if the son of the king did not live, the next in the family bloodline would be sure to inherit power. However, he was so tenderly loved by his palace, and eventually his people, that none of those plots had come to fruition. Though, the paranoia that harm brings had lingered far beyond those old relatives had died. There was nary a moment that Mingyu wasn’t alone, and he spent a majority of his days cooped up in his palace. No matter how vast a castle can be, there is not a long amount of time before the ornate pillars of a warm room can feel like the cold steel of penitentiary bars. 

 

To try and make up for it, Mingyu’s father often held parties that Mingyu never asked for. He often invited friends that Mingyu liked well enough, but never had much desire to grow close with them. The amount of names he knew were innumerable, but the amount of people he truly cared for were not. Mingyu was always given any physical item he wished for, spoiling him, but that gold heart could not become rotten. Instead of pining for the easily obtainable, Mingyu tended to look past the boundary of what is physical. He wanted to  _ experience _ , like his father did. Like he never could.

 

Preparing his plea, he jumped from the golden step of his pearl white carriage and moved forth into his palace on quick feet. He waded through maroon hallways of luxurious paintings and priceless pottery, passed servants with snacks and even his beloved Aji, who slept on a pink bed atop a pedestal. 

 

In passing pleasantry, he nodded at the guard who kept watch in front of those grand rosewood doors before his father’s chambers. He almost felt sorry for the poor man-- His father was practicing the violin. Heaven knows the man should not have been given any instrument of any kind; The King was sure to murder the sweet Apollo with such sour notes, destroying the very name of music. 

 

Bracing the unpleasant music, which Mingyu relates to the sound of a cat being brutally strangled, he opens the doors and fixes a grin on his face. Unfortunately, his Father stopped for nothing, singing incoherently along to his string-made cat-screeching. 

 

“Father,” Mingyu tries, attempting to keep a pleasant singsong in his voice. 

 

It’s no use. 

 

“Father,” 

 

The man continues to wildly flail against the strings, almost as if he’s having a sword fight with the bow rather than to make music. 

 

“Father!” Mingyu raises his voice, his smile dropping from his face for a second before perking right back up again. 

 

“Oh! Mingyu! I hadn’t been told you had returned!” The King smiles, dropping his violin to the floor without a single care of how the instrument would crash to the floor. The bow breaks, strings frayed and pathetically worn. It’s for the best. 

 

The King embraces his son, and Mingyu kisses his cheek, still endeared by his silly old man and his absolute lack of talent despite his love of sound.

 

“I thought I’d tell you myself.” Mingyu grins. 

 

“Excellent! How did your expedition to the plains go?”

 

“Quite fine, I had spoken with the Lord of that area, and his report states that everything is still in order, no tension near that border and enough wealth to keep the people content.” 

 

“Good!” The King clasps his hands together and turns on his heel, moving to sit at his tea table beside his grand, floor-to-ceiling windows. Mingyu follows, but does not sit. He’d been sitting all day, after all.

 

“Father, I have a request.” 

 

The King turns, his gray hair shining with the very last of the sunset. His father, always grinning, nods reassuringly, granting Mingyu the permission to voice his wishes.

 

“I…” Mingyu drops his princely persona, allowing his strained to be wide shoulders to shrink small, and his head to drop to the side ever so slightly as he shyly speaks, “I wish to attend the Sunfluery festival in the Western Tradelands. You see, I’ve received an invitation from the Prince in the Central West, and he even offered up his home for me to stay safely in. I thought that it might be a worthwhile endeavor to strengthen the bond between the two countries, and-”

 

Mingyu’s father raises a hand, and Mingyu bites his tongue immediately. The King’s head raises as he takes in a deep breath, and the Prince shifts his weight onto his toes, leaning forward in anticipation.

 

The King’s eyes become less focused, and,  _ Oh no. _

 

Mingyu knows this expression well. His father’s eyes become blurry and unfocused, like he’s gazing a thousand yards away. It’s most likely because the old coot  _ was  _ gazing a thousand years into the past. The expression isn’t ever a bad thing, but to a young man that simply wants to ask a question and run, it’s one of the most demotivating signs possible. It means that he’s probably going to get a big speech about youth or something equally tiring. 

 

“I had once attended Sunfluery. I had met a wonderful young woman there. What a weekend.” His father chuckles, hearty and full. “Ah, I miss my festival days. What a gallivanting young man I was…”

 

To Mingyu’s surprise, it stops there. He raises a brow, waiting for his old man to say something else, but a continuation doesn’t come.

 

“So, would it be alright if I went?” 

 

The King tilts his head a little, matching Mingyu’s tilt, and his eyes flit back to his son. 

 

“I don’t see why not,” He shrugs, bringing his elbows up to his sides and flicking his wrists downward. “You’ve shown plenty of responsibility as of late, and I feel that you’re old enough to recognize danger when it approaches. Besides, if you will be resting in a well-guarded palace, this old man won’t have much to worry about.”

 

“Really?” Mingyu straightens up a little. He didn’t think it would be so  _ easy _ .

 

“Of course. After all, your coronation is less than a year away. You won’t have much time to seek pleasure in parades and run amongst the common folk as you would now. Besides, my beloved son hardly asks a thing of me. Why should I deny him of the one thing he asks?” 

 

The King reaches forward, a gentle hand hanging in the air. Mingyu bends at the waist, setting his cheek against the warm hand. 

 

“You may go, my son. You have my permission.”  

 

The King pats Mingyu’s cheek, making the prince scrunch up his features. 

 

“Bring back a spouse, while you’re at it!” 

 

Mingyu feels his cheeks grow warm, and he pulls away, earning another deep chuckle from his father. 

 

“I can’t promise you that.” Mingyu squeaks out. 

 

“Oh, but isn’t that man you danced with from the west? Is that not the prince who invited you there?” 

 

Mingyu doesn’t have anything else to say. He simply bows quickly and scurries out of the room, leaving his father to laugh with himself. Although he’s embarrassed, he has a bit more of a bounce in his step than he did before. He feels more tingly and eager than he did just moments before-- and although he finds joy in the small things, it’s not often he feels  _ excitement _ .

 

Giddly, he makes his way through the palace, and when he passes by a servant, he stops on his heel. 

 

“Oh, send for a messenger, would you?” Mingyu speaks politely as always, but the wide grin on his face is something new. “I’ve got an invitation I wish to respond to!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAAAAAAAA SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING THIS IN LIKE ALMOST 6 MONTHS I THINK.... I UH... YEAH.
> 
> to give you a relatively brief reason (you can find the full at my twitter @bigcaratfool) ,,, i just felt like i couldn't produce something as neat and as wonderful as the person i created this with could. without that person in my life (although it was my choice) it just,, like,,, felt like i was trying to replicate their style? and idk i felt like my own style wasn't good enough to continue this thing on my own. and then after a while i kind of ... forgot about it! but yea it was brought back to my attention and i remembered how MUCH i love this au so i spent two weeks restructuring everything and making it more mine? a lot of the original plot points are still in tact but how it gets there is a teensy bit different.. also it's /slightly/ shorter but i dont think you can consider an estimated 46-50 chapters short. i do not know what we were thinking
> 
> anyway if u want the full explanation u can head to @bigcaratfool on twitter (yes im plugging it again i want to be FRIENDS!!!) 
> 
> ALSO ALSO ALSO i really want to write a gyuboo au bu t i do not know what the hell to write about so if you have any ideas or requests feel free to pop em into my cc :D 
> 
> sorry for taking so long! also its midterms and i should be studying right now so if someone would like to kick my ass its probably what i need


	5. In June, Sunfluery

Throughout a travel of two days’ time, the soothing gold of sandy shores are kept sealed within the confines of the land that Mingyu so excitedly left. The sound of cascading waves in those clear and endless waters  traded for the winds that whip through rich leaves of great old trees, whose trunks are thicker than the likes of the palm trees back home. The thin and proudly swaying cattails he’s familiar with seemed like nothing more than frail thrushes in comparison to the lush greenery that surrounds Mingyu’s carriage. The young prince had spent much time sketching these trees to pass the time, enjoying the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. Excitedly he sketched, from morning to night, even through the dusk in which the coachmen rested at an inn within a stone walled tavern. Like the flame of an inextinguishable candle, he drew with a granite stick as though there was not enough paper to cover the expanse of the woods he had become quickly infatuated with. Though he should have rested, to himself he sang the unheard carol of the unique birds he had listened to so intently. Eager to learn, and not so eager to bed, he only slept when he was settled back into his carriage at dawn. When the woods had become valleys where farmlands were hidden, he had closed his weary eyes, and in the moments before he allowed the flame of his candle to flicker as his consciousness slipped, he still found those quaint farmhouses dear and thought that he might’ve liked to live such a small life. 

 

He woke to the sound of bells, small and distant jingles that brought forth excitement to his curious ears. Though his eyes open slowly, bleary with sleep, the ecstatic feelings bubble within him and brew him awake. He’s arrived, it seems, in the midst of great joy. He draws a curtain back sheepishly, wishing to avoid the gaze of a crowd, but it seems that no one cares for the pearl-white carriage riding through the city. It’s easy to see why; Why look at a coach of boorish white when a symphony of color is much closer? 

 

Mingyu has never seen a festival of this magnitude up close before - the fact he’d slept so little in the past two days suddenly bears no weight on his shoulders as he gazes upon the people he passes. The amount of things happening around is almost overwhelming, nearly too much for Mingyu to properly see all at once. There’s merchants that have set up shop just off of the streets, selling fruits more large and decadent than the likes that the young prince had ever seen, street performers playing joyously with their flutes and their lutes and their lyres in an unharmonious clamor, and dazed townsfolk that stop to dance on every street corner… 

 

As if he had been taken out of the moment, Mingyu wonders just how many happy memories he had missed out on, songs he had not heard or danced to, fruits he had not tasted, due to his fate of being locked within the walls of his castle to impress and mingle with only those of the same class. The lifestyle of the lavish had lost its charm long ago. Receiving gifts of gold or pearl or fine silken cloaks was always fine, but would it be so garish to receive something simple? Hell, even flowers plucked from his own garden would please him, as long as it took more than a mere moment’s worth of thought. While he was within his ivory tower, being forced to rub elbows with the upper class, his people were probably below in the streets, having a time as grand as this! Oh, how jealous he was, of the simple ability to run without an end in sight through bright fields, to dance on legs untrained for unnecessary intricacies… 

 

Ah, he had nearly forgotten that he hadn’t come to simply sightsee. He was here to see that prince again, that angel-like face that had appeared in most of his dreams like a spectre that was hellbent on haunting him. While it saddened him vaguely - like a mild pinch at his heartstrings - that he wouldn’t be able to engage in such a spritely celebration, the fact that he was going to see that handsome face again made that pain nonexistent. At least this time, he chose his company, he chose the place he would be kept in, and that simple rebellion was freeing enough. Yet, he still wanted to be selfish, he wanted to feel the intoxicating atmosphere of a party  even if for a fleeting moment. He wanted to be there, to be entirely present, in an event that he otherwise could never attend. As if he were his beloved Aji, he sticks his head out of the window and closes his eyes, allowing the open breeze to kiss his cheeks. He inhales deeply, taking in the scent of roasting meats, and clears his mind as he listens to the plentiful chatter as if he were amongst it. Immersing himself in his own imagination, he rode away from the music and the memories he had always been denied. 

 

When the music grows faint and the nearby voices become distant whispers, he opens his eyes once more. Large and grand trees have begun to pick back up in population, and still the road was lined with flower petals, as if the lonely woods were still a part of the festival. A small detail, but endearing nonetheless, and Mingyu smiled down at every petal and rock decoratively placed on the edges of the trail. 

 

_ Has Wonwoo seen these little petals? Has Wonwoo experienced his own festivals, or does he watch from afar as I must with mine? _

 

The more he thought about the man he would be seeing, the more he began to feel a bit hot. It was significantly warmer back home than it is here, and yet the pleasant summer breeze starts to feel unbelievably humid and uncomfortable against his skin. Either that, or he was suddenly perspiring at a disgusting rate. 

 

_ Oh, God,  _ He thinks, with an arm flung over his eyes as if he were posing for a painting. 

 

_ We hardly know each other! I don’t even know what I will speak to him about! I’ve not even a single idea! What if I talk too much? What if I say something that will cause him to detest me?  _

 

Lost in his own thoughts without an end in sight, he groans and grumbles until the carriage stops. Shaken by the end of the ride, he scrambles to put on his coat as the carriage rocks ruggedly back and forth. The coachmen open both doors of the carriage for him, and even the simple decision of which door to leave from seems like it’s entirely overwhelming. However, it would be unbecoming of him to appear so scatterbrained and anxious, so he quickly rights himself, straightens up his shoulders and gets out of his coach. One of the drivers grabs his bags, and as he turns to face the palace, a door creaks open slowly. A maid descends from the stairs and grabs the ends of her dress before dipping into a low curtsy. 

 

“Sir Kim of the East,” She begins, her head still hung low. Mingyu observes the contrast of a few thin gray hairs shining over the rest of her dark hair. 

 

“You may stand, miss, I am not such an important visitor that you can’t look upon my face” Mingyu speaks, offering a kind grin. 

 

She stands straight and smiles, but doesn’t begin to speak again until she has bowed her head once more. 

 

“You may all come with me, dear gusts, I ensure that your horses and your coach shall be relocated safely.” 

Mingyu gives a look over his shoulder, nodding once, giving his men the silent permission to follow. Seeing this, the maid turns and begins to ascend up the short staircase once more. 

 

“The Jeon Manor welcomes you warmly.” She says, standing aside the open door, holding out her arm to escort the three inside.

 

Mingyu passes through the threshold, and is immediately charmed by the simple elegance of the foyer.

 

Unlike the rather unassuming and plain pale-bricked exterior, the interior leaves nothing to be desired. The deep walnut wood paneling is fully wainscot across each wall, the upper trim of each wall carved with swirling leaves and the same coat of arms on the wax seal of Prince Jeon’s letters. Despite the darkwood covering both the floor and the walls, the entrance of the manor is still astonishingly lit by the large oval window masterfully placed in the center of the ceiling, displaying the eye of day in it’s warm glory. The contrast of brilliant light reflecting off of the night-like walls is nothing short of beautiful. Even such a simple detail reminds him of that Prince; He’s gorgeous, perhaps a bit dark in aesthetic, but the light that radiates from him is warmer than the noon of summer. 

 

Another maid stood atop of the left staircase, the right set of stairs left unoccupied. 

 

“I will lead you to your room, Sir Kim. You are invited to rest as long as you like.” 

 

He turns, taking his suitcase from the man who held it for him, and makes his way further inside. Mingyu’s footsteps echo heavy against the flawless flooring, the sound disappearing as he steps upon the wine-toned carpet that lines each stair. When he’s reached the top, he looks down once more to motion to his men, only to find that they’ve already gone with that other maid. Returning his gaze to the maid, he notes that this one seems to be significantly older than the last, with wrinkles running deep into her features, and yet she is still radiant, aged like fine wine. It’s different from his own palace for sure, his father only employs young men and women that he finds strapping or attractive.

 

“Before I am shown to my room, I would like to pay my respects to the head of this house. I believe that would be the Queen, correct?” 

 

“Unfortunately, the Queen does not live in this residence, only Sir Jeon resides here.” 

 

“Ah.” Mingyu’s thought process stalls slightly.

 

_ Sir Jeon lives here? Alone?  _

 

“Well, I’ve brought him a gift of his own.” 

 

“I’m sure he will appreciate that greatly, but you have had a lengthy travel, haven’t you? It would be of benefit to you to rest.” 

 

“I’ve been resting for two whole days in my coach,” Mingyu lies with a smile, “I’ve no need for further sleep.” 

 

The maid hums, her brows knitting together as the cogs turn in her mind. Her expressions are so easily read, even by Mingyu, who often misreads the most basic of countenance   
  


“I suppose I could show you to the garden as I inform Sir Jeon of your wishes.” 

 

“If you would.” 

 

“Then, follow me.” 

 

The maid turns on her heels, leading Mingyu through a round archway, just as beautifully carved as the trimming of each wall. The hallways have similarly wainscot walls, with windows separating columns periodically. The wall opposite to the windows are upholstered, and Mingyu traces a finger over the plush and ornate plum fabric. They pass in front of many different rooms, all doors unopened, through the lengthy hallway. Before a corner is turned, the maid motions with an open hand towards a set of doors with weathervane windows revealing the thick trees outside. 

 

“Allow me to take your belongings to your room, Sir Kim. The garden is just past these doors. I will return when I have received word from the young master.” 

 

She holds out her hands, and Mingyu shifts his hands to hold his luggage by the sides so that the maid could easily grab it by the handle. She does, taking it from him with no struggle and giving a silent nod of the head before departing. Mingyu turns towards the doors after watching her disappear behind a corner, and makes his way outdoors. For one palace, there sure is a lot of staircases. Though, his own isn’t really any different. His father must have really desired exhaustion when crafting that place… 

 

He makes quick work of getting down and  looks for further pavement to walk upon. There is nothing, not even for decoration, but Mingyu steps down onto the grass without a second thought. 

 

The garden, though small, blends seamlessly with the trees surrounding the manor, making the garden seem much larger and a bit wild. Unlike Mingyu’s carefully crafted gardens, there is no design, symmetry, or order to the bright plants that grow there. There are no statues that are hidden beneath well-kept shrubbery, no fountains that interrupt the plant’s growth. A pathway is lined only with stones, stopping the bushes from growing past the patches of grass that mark a path, and to keep a visitor from stepping cruelly upon the gentle greenery. Purple snapdragons and giant red delphinium flowers sprout upward from the earth, standing tall and proud besides untrimmed bushes of miscanthus grass. The mixing scents of the various perennial flowers waft sweetly up to Mingyu’s nose, and he touches the soft pink petals of a hollyhock plant that had grown so tall it was just under the height of Mingyu’s shoulder. At the end of the pathway, before the trees that blockade the outside world, a large ornamental wrought iron gazebo shelters a small table and a pair of chairs. Vines swirl around the height of the iron, weeping downward as the the green fingers of the vines lose iron to grip onto. Mingyu reaches for one of the leaves, touching the very tip of just one leaf with a soft grin. 

 

It’s quiet here. There are no maids calling for him, no messengers that bring a horrid sense of urgency, no Arorien kicking at his heels and telling him to stop lazing around in the one moment of rest Mingyu will get in a single day… There’s a sense of serenity here that Mingyu doesn’t ever quite get to feel when he is at home. 

 

He takes in a deep inhale of the fresh air, listening to the distant buzz of summer cicadas calling for their mate. 

 

“I told you that your garden brought shame to mine.” 

 

Mingyu’s eyes snap open, his soul nearly jumping out from his skin. The sudden words left a tingle residing painfully throughout his spine, and Mingyu placed a hand over his chest to steady his quickly beating heart. He turns, opening his mouth and readying a verbal battle.

 

“Heavens, you had almost--”

 

Wonwoo stands before him, leaning his weight onto one knee and balanced by his cane, his head tilted in such a way that the shadow of the iron gazebo above decorates the slant of his cheek with a delicate swirl. His bangs are swept just slightly from his forehead, exposing a crack of skin that makes his features seem a bit sharper, a perfect angular brow peeking into view. Yet, it isn’t the raw handsomeness of his face that causes Mingyu to swallow his words dryly, it’s what he’s wearing. The man dons what seems to be a nightshirt, delicate ruffles lining his neck and downward into a sharp V shape, stopping at the midst of his chest. Thin strings laced between the ruffles keep the shirt from supposedly sliding from his shoulders. The white, bell sleeved tunic is so thin that Mingyu could see the contrast of his skin beneath the fabric, and his trousers rode high, cinching the puffy shirt beneath the band of the trousers and exposing the smallness of his waist. Around those thin hips, a leather bag was strapped, dangling just off of his side. Mingyu wondered if it was indecent to see Wonwoo in such thin clothing, exposing and highlighting the parts of his body that Mingyu had not thought to stare at before now. Hell, the edge of his collarbones that poked from the edge of Wonwoo’s deep cut collar were a threat on their own. Mingyu thought, quicker than a bird takes flight, that Sir Jeon’s waist must be so easy to hold.

 

“--scared the daylight from out of my soul.” 

 

Mingyu clears his throat and forces himself to meet Wonwoo’s eyes, and though the circular lenses round out the shape of his lids, his eyes still look sharp, focused.

 

“I quite like your garden,” Mingyu forces himself to think about something,  _ anything  _ else, “It’s calm and colorful, like something out of a painting.” 

 

“Well, I’m glad you find favor with it.” Wonwoo’s soft grin does much to soothe Mingyu’s soul that had been so quickly enveloped by chaos. “Say, aren’t you a bit… warm?” 

 

Mingyu looks down at himself, as if he could see his full outfit from the awkward angle. What he wears below his sash, his thin decorative coat, his vest, and his neckcloth, is not much different from what Wonwoo is wearing… He hadn’t felt too warm under his layers after he had left his carriage. Not until he laid eyes on that son of a temptress. 

 

“Um, a bit, but as I have not been here, I did not know what climate I would be in. It’s better to wear too much then too little, aye?” 

 

“Fair point, Sir Kim, but I would still advise that you change before we depart. I was told that you were not in the mood to rest, so I figured it wouldn’t be too soon to explore.” 

 

“Explore?” Mingyu blinks. “To where would we be going?” 

 

“Are you dull?” The corner of Wonwoo’s mouth quirks, a smirk accompanying his newly furrowed brows. “You came here for Sunfluery, did you not?” 

 

“We won’t be staying here?” 

 

“Well, I had pictured that we would not, but if you would be more comfortable here, then…”

 

“No!” Mingyu interrupts, though his voice is soft, “I would love to experience it for myself. But won’t people recognize you?” 

 

“People regardless of status travel here to enjoy Sunfluery festivities. I have been amongst the people every year that I have been well enough to, and I have never encountered an issue. I can assure you that a sense of equality is felt the strongest at this time, more so here than anywhere else. Besides, dressed simply as anyone else would be, I’m sure that no one would recognize either of us.” 

 

Mingyu thinks for a moment, but that sense of longing returns to him, that strong feeling of wanting so badly to explore the unknown sticks within the walls of his heart like honey to a teacup. He won’t deny a once in a lifetime chance if it’s within grasp.

 

“I’m honored to accept this request of yours, Sir Jeon.”

 

“Good,” Wonwoo’s grin has returned. “Then, shall I show you to your room?”

 

“If you would.” 

 

Wonwoo nods and turns, swinging his cane out widely before him as he walks back to his manor, with Mingyu following at his heels. Upon reaching the short staircase, Mingyu moves to stand beside Wonwoo and assist him as he had on the night that they first met, but Wonwoo moves his cane quickly under his arm, grips at the iron railing, and moves on his own. 

 

“You seem to be in good health, Sir Jeon.” Mingyu speaks, pleased at the sight. 

 

“Yes, I’ve been resting with more fervor when I had received the word that you would be coming. I would be a bad host if I could not entertain my sole guest!”

 

Wonwoo grips at his cane again when he reaches the top step, and Mingyu grabs the door, holding it open for him. Mingyu swears, though it could be a product of his imagination, that Wonwoo smirks at him as he passes. His beating heart refused to still, but he followed silently despite the restrained screams of the damned echoing in his mind. He follows behind and watches as the light from each window illuminates Wonwoo’s figure as he passes. Have his shoulders always been so broad? The night they met, Wonwoo seemed so tiny and frail, and although he was still thin, from behind he looked so masculine and strong.

 

His thoughts are cut short by a thick thump against the ground, Wonwoo stopping just after the sound. Mingyu’s steps stutter, but he balances himself on his toes and levels himself silently, glad once more that Wonwoo wasn’t looking his way. 

 

“This is the room you’ll be staying in. I hope that it is to your liking.” 

 

Wonwoo shuffles aside, allowing Mingyu to cut in front of him and open the heavy door. 

 

The room is the same style as the hallways, with upholstered walls and wainscot trimmings. It would be very dark if not for the heavy curtains pulled back from the window. He can already tell that he’ll be sleeping like a corpse in this dark and cool room when he returns tonight. 

 

“It’s fine. Thank you.” 

 

“With that settled, I believe I have everything in order. I’ll wait for you in the foyer in about an hour, if you will be ready by then.” 

 

“Nonsense, all I have to do is take off a layer of clothing or two. I can meet you there in just a few minutes.” Mingyu waves a hand. 

 

“Alright, well, then--” 

 

“Oh!” Mingyu gasps. “I had nearly forgotten. I’ve brought you a gift.” 

 

“Have you, now?” Wonwoo says with a low hum.

 

“Yes. If you’ll give me just a moment…” 

 

The maid had set the luggage on the bed, resting on its back and ready to be opened. Mingyu does so, and he scans through his luggage with nimble fingers before finding it tucked carefully between his clothes. He hides it in the pocket of his coat quickly and turns back to Wonwoo, taking a few wide steps back to the doorway where the other man stood. 

 

“Here!” Mingyu says, revealing his gift. 

 

It’s a small red cushion stuffed with wool and feathers, a thick ribbon attached to it in a half-loop that connects each end of the cushion. 

 

“Ah, it’s so little. How cute. Where did you get it?” Wonwoo says, taking it with both hands and grinning down at his gift. Seeing the other’s grin sends relief washing through Mingyu’s spirit

 

“I made it myself.” Mingyu’s smile widens a bit, an excited glimmer in his eyes. “I worried a bit about the state of your wrist, and I felt that if we were to continue our conversations, you would like a bit more comfort. May I see your hand?”

 

Wonwoo nods, shifting his cane from his right hand to his left in a swift motion so that he could extend the hand in which he writes with. Mingyu takes the cushion from the other’s fingers and slips it onto his wrist. Wonwoo’s wrist is thinner than expected, and the ribbon bunches loosely around his skin, but Mingyu’s smile does not falter. 

 

“I did not know a man of sport like you would be interested in sewing.” 

 

Mingyu feels heat behind his cheeks, but it doesn’t bother him much. No, it doesn’t bother him at all. 

 

“My mother taught me that art was just as important as sport. She would say that you cannot be a proper human without balancing masculinity and femininity. She would push me towards both art and sport, saying that it was important that I become well-rounded. I actually do enjoy sewing, I just don’t have the time for it. It’s much easier to flaunt athletic achievement.”

 

“Well, the thoughtful gift is appreciated. I will be sure to use it well. I’ll boast this artistic side of yours for you.” Wonwoo’s eyes flit to Mingyu’s face, and they share a smile for a moment before Wonwoo retracts his hand. “I’m going to put this somewhere safe. I’ll meet you in the foyer shortly.” 

 

Mingyu nods, putting his hand behind his back and closing his fist, keeping Wonwoo’s warmth tight against his skin for as long as he can. The warmth fades after a few seconds, and Mingyu reaches to shut the door as the other walks away, the sound of his cane thudding against the floor growing distant with each step. 

 

Finally having a real moment of solitude, he buries his face in his hands. 

 

Jeon Wonwoo, as angelic in feature and manner as he is, will surely be the death of the young Kim Mingyu, whose large heart was always seconds away from bursting whenever he was in the presence of that heaven sent man. 

 

He blows hot air into his own hands, releasing his pent up energy through a single breath. He then stands up straight and shakes his shoulders, righting himself. He’ll have all night to panic. Right now, he’s got more important matters on his hands. After all, he’s going to be amongst the common folk. He’s going to enjoy a  _ real  _ festival, all of his senses enhanced with pure excitement.

 

Quickly stripping himself of his coat, his vest, and his necktie so carefully pinned to his shirt, he lays his discarded clothing out on the bed next to his luggage and turns to find a mirror in the far corner of the room. He walks towards it, inspecting his own appearance carefully. Mingyu doesn’t know how Wonwoo can so casually wear such a little amount of clothing without finding it the slightest bit indecent. Mingyu feels very bare, almost as if he weren’t wearing anything at all. It’s not often that Mingyu lacks in confidence, but when he’s beside a man who is more glorious than paintings of saints, how could he not? 

 

Unable to muster up more of his pride he returns to his suitcase, repurposing a gold sash—with the medallions and crests stripped from its cloth—as a decorative belt. Feeling a bit more prideful in his clothing, he nods at his distant reflection and quickly flees from his room to meet Wonwoo downstairs.

 

Wonwoo stands downstairs near the door, leaning against the dark walls and staring up at the sky through the window on the ceiling. The round glasses reflect the sun with a bright glare, and suddenly Mingyu doesn’t feel the nerves pricking at his soul so sharply anymore. It’s easing to know that Wonwoo doesn’t look so astonishingly perfect all the time. 

 

“Took you long enough,” Wonwoo says, a grin on his face. 

 

“I got a bit distracted.” Mingyu grins back, bright and unafraid. “Shall we go?” 

 

“At your word, we shall.” 

 

“Then, good host, I believe it’s time to depart from this lovely palace of yours.” 

 

“Such flattering words. I fear the sharp end of the serpent’s tongue.” 

 

“Be soothed. I am no serpent, you’ll find I am a mere sheep.” 

 

“Ah, well consider me your shepard. I’ll guide you safely through my city.” 

 

Wonwoo pushes through the door, letting Mingyu through. 

 

“A lucky sheep am I,” Mingyu says, moving outside and moving down a step, looking up at Wonwoo. “To have such a handsome shepard.” 

 

Wonwoo chuckles, closing the large door behind him with a loud creak. Mingyu’s eyes sweep over the man, a secret and fiendish act he planned on keeping to himself, until he noticed that the man did not bear his cane. 

 

“Are you feeling so well in health that you don’t need that cane of yours?” Mingyu asks, pursing his lips. 

 

“The cane supports me, yes, but it is seen more so as my status among the people rather than a sickly man’s crutch. Any who would see the crest on the front or the back of the handle would know who I am. It’s best for me to leave it here.” 

 

Mingyu hums in acknowledgement, but still he worries. 

 

“If you would like support, I gladly offer my own arms to you.” 

 

“Your support is acknowledged,” Wonwoo says, stepping down onto the same stair that Mingyu stands on, “and accepted, as well.” 

 

Mingyu holds out his arm, and Wonwoo’s thin arms wrap around it, a hand laying over his bicep and the other laying over his forearm. The two continue down the stairs, through the paved entryway of the palace, and down the small hill the palace is hidden by. Despite sharing his strength, Mingyu finds that he does not have to lend much of it to Wonwoo. Even as his pace quickens, drawn in by the allure of a sweet melody, his strength is not bothered by the other at all. Yet, he says nothing, holding the man close to soothe his own fluttering stomach. 

 

Contrary to Mingyu’s expectation, it doesn’t take very long to reach the city once more. Soon enough, the two are within a hub of endless activity, with far too much for Mingyu to look at. Luckily, Wonwoo is a knowledgeable guide, leading him away from the main street, where drunkards stumble to and fro the cobblestone streets and children run between the legs of any stray man walking through their path, to roads less populated. Thick fresh olive leaf garlands and small yellow flags hang high over the street, connecting storefronts built out of the lower half of common homes. Children too young to wander hang from windows, throwing flower petals down onto the crowds below, almost as if in competition with the children from other homes. Fluttering petals blow in the breeze, and Mingyu dares not comment on the petals resting upon Wonwoo’s head. Dare he ruin the smile on the other prince’s face? No, he dared not.

 

Wonwoo speaks, enthusiasm unmatched, about the stores they pass and the people that run them. There’s the kind ladies who run a hat shop, and although they are gossips, they produce the most exquisite head dressings. The family  running the teashop on the corner that have made a name for themselves due to their fascinating combinations of flavor. A lone sculptor who uses the money he gains from his artwork to feed equally lone, struggling travelers. A florist who creates brilliant bouquet displays, all for the baker who lives just across the street…

 

“And how have you acquired such intimate knowledge about your townspeople?” Mingyu asks, nudging gently into Wonwoo’s size. 

 

“Aye, what ruler would I be if I had no knowledge of those who dwell within my city?” Wonwoo nudges right back, keeping his face forward, unlike Mingyu who steals a glance at any chance he has. “I am often sick, and thus, my maids leave the palace frequently so that they may come back and inform me of news and events that I might have missed otherwise. Word tends to travel fast in a land as small as mine, you see.” 

 

It seems that all streets lead to a large plaza, wide and spacious despite the sea of people that constantly move about. On the outskirts of the sidewalk, many are lined up to wooden booths, where artists offer to paint small pictures or shapes onto people’s faces. Similar to the mainstreet of the town, musicians have set up an area to play jaunty tunes, their backdrop a crowd of dancers circling around each other before a statue of a handsome man of marble sat atop a winged horse, his rapier of shining silver pointed upwards to the sky towards the mid afternoon sun hung northwestward. They stop at a corner, which gives Mingyu a moment to breathe, his air taken from him by the amount of activity around him. It’s incredibly loud, the noise never really stops, but the chaos is so unorderly. It’s  _ fascinating  _ how people allow themselves to laugh, yell, and sing with glee without a care as to who may be listening. Everyone seems to be drenched in color, be it either the paint which decorates their faces with abnormal shapes or the rich dye of their clothing or the pigments they are dirtied with. It’s as if these people, constantly shuffling and moving about, act as a singular moving painting. 

 

As beautiful of a sight as it may be, Mingyu finds himself increasingly distracted by the hypnotizing perfume of a merchant’s fruit display. Having eaten so little in his days of journey, the simple fruit of the summer seem like such a delicacy, a tantalizing siren that speaks to his stomach. He feels Wonwoo’s grip loosen on his arm, and Mingyu turns to see Wonwoo fumble with his leather bag. After a moment, Wonwoo grabs for Mingyu’s hand, and Mingyu feels a cool sensation against his palm. He brings his hand to his chest and opens his hand, revealing two small coins resting there. 

 

“Go, grab for us the ripest fruits you see.” Wonwoo says, flicking his wrist, “That beastly rumble from your stomach has given your desires away.”

 

Heat comes quickly to Mingyu’s cheeks, leaving him flushed and embarrassed. How cruel of his own body to betray him! Unable to think of much else besides his own shame, he nods and excuses himself, fleeing to grab the fruit he seeks. 

 

The merchants array of goods makes it hard to make a proper decision. The apples are shining, the grapes are plump and bright, the pears unbruised, and the various berries in lovely shallow straw baskets. However, the golden, soft-skinned apricot calls to Mingyu with a sweet whisper, and upon touching his finger to the ripe flesh of the fruit, he wanted nothing more than to taste the succulent crop. He purchased two, hoping that his decision would please the prince.

 

When he stumbles through the crowd and returns to Wonwoo, who has transfixed his gaze on that gallant statue that rises far above the heads of those who surround it. Though marble, his features are so pristine that if not for the unmovingness, that statue could be considered a man. He’s handsome, with long, study limbs and curly hair that offsets the sharpness of his jaw.

 

Mingyu turns back to Wonwoo, who seemed lost in thought, and slipped an apricot into his hand, successfully distracting him. Wonwoo looked down at the fruit and back to Mingyu, a soft grin resting on his lips.

 

“That statue is beautiful. It bears a resemblance to you.” Mingyu lowers himself slightly, speaking close to Wonwoo’s ear.

 

Wonwoo gives a short chuckle, yet says nothing of it. 

 

“Come, I’ve got more to show you, friend.” Wonwoo says, snaking his arms around Mingyu’s arm once more. He begins leading Mingyu through a sidestreet, away from the plaza, and to an alleyway that leads to nothing but more thick trees.

 

However, beyond the lush trees of sugar maple, whose shadows offer such lovely shade from the heat, and just over another hill, a valley of yellow faces greet the pair of princes. The upright flowers, with such pleasant and bright countenance, with eyes of brown seed that beckon all forth kindly. Stalks of green that hold up the gorgeous sunflowers, taller than the youth that run through the long linear fields. 

 

Mingyu, who had never seen such a large field of flowers, could not hold back a gasp of ecstatic glee, eyes shimmering with the influence of these flowers facing east. 

 

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Wonwoo’s voice is smug and proud, and Mingyu turns his head to meet his eyes. 

 

“Truly, they are. I couldn’t have conjured such a sight in my own dreams.” 

 

Wonwoo chuckles, soft and airy, and he lowers himself to sit on the hill. 

 

“I wonder, have my flowers outgrown you, the absolute beanstalk of a man that you are?” 

 

“Is that a challenge? I take all opportunity to boast if I can, Sir Jeon!” 

 

“By all means, go.” 

 

Mingyu launches from his feet downward, with speed that brushes his hair from his forehead as he barrels down into the fields below. 

 

A child squeals, “Look, a big man!” 

 

“We can outrun him!” Says another. 

 

Somehow Mingyu had forgotten his age, and allowed himself to indulge the children, who ran beside him down the hill, hoping to overpower his speed. Even down through the yellow fields, he ran, slowing his pace slightly to tail after the screaming kids. A girl whose sundress as blue as the sky, with pigtails flying behind her as she ran, hands joined with a boy whose hat had flown from his head as Mingyu pursued them. A monster of the field, they cried, and Mingyu’s roaring laughter spurred them on. He knew not these children, but with giggles and joyous squeals as pleasant as a bird’s song, how could he not humor them? He had forgotten to measure himself to the flowers, crouching down to pick up the children, one for each arm, and hoisted them into the air onto his shoulders. The act had made other children envious, and as animals exit their hidden homes, he’d attracted a whole flock of them, each demanding a ride upon his strong shoulders. He humored them for a while, but eventually, he had grown winded, and snuck off when the children had decided to play together. 

 

Silently back up the hill, the only sound his own panting, he collapsed onto his knees, beside Wonwoo who smiled so gently at him. Mingyu laid down in the grass, the blades pricking at his belly and his chest, and he covers his face as he catches his breath. 

 

“You,” He says, his moment of rest now passed, “You mock me with those eyes.” 

 

“Mock you? Surely, I do not.” 

 

Mingyu looks up from his resting spot, near the knees of the other man, to look upon his face. 

 

Sat newly atop his head, a crown of woven flowers, of soft coreopsis, daisies, and spikes of lavender, held together with white ribbon that shone so brilliantly against the gleam of Wonwoo’s night-dark hair. 

 

Dazzled by the man’s beauty, but sore with envy, he pouts his lips. 

 

“Where have you acquired that lovely crown of petals?” Mingyu says, digging his elbows into the ground and propping his head on the palms of his hands. 

 

“A merchant passed by with a wheelbarrow of flowers while you were distracted with the children.” Wonwoo speaks, turning his head and pointing a finger in the direction of her travel. “She had given it to me, saying I would be a lovely model of her craft. Jealous, are you?” 

 

“Green with it, your majesty.” 

 

“I can’t allow a guest of mine to be unhappy. It would make me quite an unfavorable host.” Wonwoo says, rising slowly to his feet. “Give me a moment.” 

 

The prince walks, slow and steady, and Mingyu waits patiently as he disappears over the view of the hill. 

 

With a content sigh, Mingyu rolls into his back, his arms as a cushion for his head behind him. He closes his eyes and allows himself a moment of rest, and like the sunflowers below, he soaks in the warmth of the sun. 

 

Soon, the sound of returning footsteps greets his ears, and a gentle grunt passes through Wonwoo’s lips as he settles back onto the grass. An eye of Mingyu’s cracks open, and he rolls onto his stomach once more. 

 

Wonwoo holds a bouquet in his hands, separating the flowers one by one. Small handfuls of blue and white forget-me-nots, a few large pink peonies, and roses of red and white. Silently, he begins to weave the stems of the flowers together, tightly twisting a ribbon around the plants to keep his braids together. With nimble fingers, Wonwoo’s pointed eyes focus on the flowers, and gently he works, not bringing harm to a single petal. 

 

Upon completion of his creation, he sets it upon Mingyu’s head, his cool fingers brushing gently against his warm forehead for just a moment. 

 

“There,” He says, his smooth voice not quite matching with the pride in his eyes. “Now you are adorned, as well.”

 

Mingyu can’t help but smile, a hand traveling upward to touch a petal resting atop his head.

 

“Such rich soil you have, to be able to grow such stunning plants.”

 

He hopes that the crown atop his head suits him as well as that crown of yellow, white, and purple on Wonwoo’s head. 

 

“Does all of this grow here? What lovely spikes of lavender that decorate you.” 

 

“If lavender interests you, I can show you the fields in which they grow. Though not as large as our valley of flowers, they still offer a pleasurable sight.” 

 

“Any sight seen with you, sir, would be deemed pleasurable.” 

 

Mingyu stands, offering his hand to Wonwoo. 

 

“A bit of a journey it is to those fields. Have you not grown tired?” 

 

“Not in the slightest, your majesty.” 

 

Wonwoo grins, and takes Mingyu’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled upward. As if routine, Wonwoo’s hands find their place upon Mingyu’s arm, and they walk. The two travel under the shade of the thickly leaved threads, hiding from the hot sun that threatens to tint human skin with a painful pink that peels like scales. The sun gradually becomes inescapable, as the afternoon nears sunset, and time passes quickly with the assistance of cheerful chatter. What great company Wonwoo is, though quiet at times, his thoughts are rich and his words are quite pensive. An introspective man, but one whose words are worth their weight in jewels. Mingyu has no qualms with listening to the man, especially when the coral sky illuminates his features with rich orange. 

 

The sun disappears behind the range of the hills in the horizon, and though the light of the city is not far, Mingyu still worries of the threat that hides within the woods. He internalizes it, letting it stew, because night has not begun to come. The sky has barely darkened, and if threat did come, Mingyu would surely protect the prince with his bear hands. Yes, he w-- 

 

Blown away with the early night’s breeze, Mingyu’s thoughts leave him the moment soft purple colors his eyes. He expects to stop there and rest, but Wonwoo continues forward, down a gentle hill, until the fragrance of unpicked lavender fills each human sense.

 

Standing amongst the short bushes of lavender, just barely touching their knees, a sense of calm fills Mingyu’s always anxious spirit, always weary with endless worry. Stars begin to speckle the sky, and Mingyu wonders what constellations will be in view tonight. That is, until a bright star passes directly in front of his eyes. 

 

Mingyu stumbles back in fear, blowing air and spit through his lips, and Wonwoo chuckles at him, letting his hands slide away from Mingyu’s fumbling arm. 

 

“Afraid of little fireflies?” 

 

“Fireflies?” Mingyu opens his eyes, blinking. 

 

Small, golden lights, fly upward from the earth. The lights blink, and blink softly, swirling about serenely. Little bugs, with soft light, fly gently with the breeze that carries them amongst the lavender. From a small amount, to many, more twinkling lights that mimic the beauty of the night. The soft purple of the after-sunset sky, mixing with the lavender below, with the lovely bugs pretending that they, too, are stars. 

 

This is what it must be like, to be amongst the stars. To be far above civilization, to dance among the clouds, to be one with the gods that rule from on high. 

 

A hand touches gently against the underside of Mingyu’s chin, closing his mouth softly. Dazed, and a little surprised, Mingyu turns to his companion. 

 

“Do you hope to trap a bug with your gaping mouth?” Wonwoo says, his brows raised. 

 

The gentle light-bugs circle around the man, touching the flowers upon his head, decorating him with stars. 

 

Mingyu can hardly believe his eyes. His soul refused to be calm. 

 

_ How foolish was I, to imagine this man an angel? Heresy I have committed, not recognizing a god when he was before my eyes. To a chapel I must go, to confess my sin! How heavenly he is, this man has surely come from the stars.  _

 

“You stare at me with the eyes of a fish. How childish you are. With an expression like that, I wonder if you are truly befitting to become a king.” Wonwoo grins, patting his chin once before letting his hand drop. Mingyu misses that soft hand already. 

 

“Perhaps I may not be. Yet, if I could choose a fate other than the one I have been given, I would choose to be a child. If I could be so selfish, I would like to be one of the happy children of your land.”

 

“Flattering you are, soft prince of East, but what good is there to wish for what cannot be? Live for what you can see with the pair of eyes that you have been given. Commit to memory the sights that you have now seen. Visit these moments again in your dreams, and think not of what you wish you could be.” 

 

Mingyu sighs, and extends a hand, hoping to catch one of the stars on the earth with his own hand. A bug perches on his palm, just for a moment, and when he tries to close his fingers, it flutters away, back into the night. 

 

“Is it so wrong, to wish for a life that could not be yours?” Mingyu asks, his voice only a meek whisper. 

 

“Yes. A sin that it may be. Why waste your breath, or your precious thoughts, on the fantastical? If you are a fool, turn away from the beauty the exists before your eyes. But if you do not want to be blind, look around you, see what can only be seen with your eyes. Only you can feel the way you do right now. This is the beauty of life. To feel all that you can in the moments that you are given.” 

 

Wonwoo spreads his arms and closes his eyes, walking backwards through the field. 

 

“I live for this moment, I cherish this breath, and now I live a life that is all the sweeter because I have granted for myself this happiness.” 

 

Fireflies whose paths have been interrupted by Wonwoo fly around the man, touching his shirt and kissing his hair with light. A stray bug misses, and lands atop Wonwoo’s nose, causing the man to crinkle his features and laugh brightly with ticklish glee. He shines with silver in the new moonlight, but glistens gold with these firefly friends.

 

Wise is this man, speaking with age that he does not have. Yet, his smile is charming, as young and as bright as Mingyu’s own. 

 

Mingyu’s stomach flutters with bugs that aren’t as kind as fireflies. Butterflies, wide and aggressive, brush at his insides with fervor that makes Mingyu feel impossibly fond. 

 

He watches for a while, as Wonwoo walks, turning slow circles on the earth with thin legs that threaten weakness. Despite this, and a few small tumbles, he savors the chill of the night, the touch of the bugs, and the scent of the sleepy lavender. Mingyu, however, savors the man who walks ahead of him, marking his place amongst the flowers, his head shining with love that comes from the stars. 

 

The wind, however, isn’t as kind as the stars, and as moon rises higher in the sky, Mingyu strides forth, blocking the cool breeze from tossing a single hair atop Wonwoo’s flower decorated hair. Wonwoo shivers, but continues to move, a quiet determination to power forward despite his own body’s limitations. 

 

“Your majesty, I believe it is time to retire.” Mingyu speaks up, and though his voice is gentle, he speaks with a suggestion of command. 

 

“If you wish it, my friend, we shall go.” 

 

Mingyu moves to stand beside the man, holding out his arm, a small grin on his face. 

 

“My exhaustion from my travel has finally caught up to me.” Mingyu speaks, although lying. 

 

Wonwoo, seemingly accepting this, assumes his place clung to Mingyu’s arm. 

 

“I will lead us back to my estate, dear friend.” 

 

Mingyu nods, and the tread begins, with Mingyu mustering up his bravery to rest his free hand upon one of Wonwoo’s. To his delight, the other says nothing of it, and the warmth of Wonwoo remains there against the palm of his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAYS DOWN ON THE GROUND
> 
> this is the longest single chapter ive ever done n also it took me 5 days of nonstop writing because some days i wrote 4k and then some days i spent 3 hours on google images and writing like 1k and honestly i',m going to punch myself in the face
> 
> but WOO HE MADE IT.... we amde it... i made i t........ i want to die now
> 
> n e way [WITH AIRHORNS] I GOT MY FIRST FANAAAAAARRTTTT so this chapter is dedicated to @hblackstone on twitter (ill post the link to their artwork down at the bottom) 
> 
> THANKS to anyone who has ever read this this is also my first fic that's got 1000 hits so like that was really neat to see so many people have perhaps glanced at one of my jumbles of words i call a fic :') 
> 
> https://twitter.com/hbIackstone/status/1109885140769988610


	6. At Night, An Exchange

_ In the midst of a clamor of people who partaken in gallivanting within a square of the city, Mingyu stood beside his guide, clapping along to the quick beat of a song. Musicians played in the corner, as they often did, and where music was, the people followed. It mattered not what instruments were being played, even if it were nothing more than a singular flautist and a person to pound on a slab of wood, there was surely someone who found the moment lovely enough to dance.  _

 

_ Yet, in the three days the two of them had spend exploring, all they had done was watch. Mingyu had wanted to seize the moment, but he feared for not only the health of Wonwoo, but of seeming too forward with a man who called him friend.  _

 

_ Wonwoo did it often, too. Each time he would call upon Mingyu, he would punctuate his sentence with the same pleasantry. Friend. If it were anyone else, Mingyu probably would’ve felt a bit downtrodden or offended. Yet no matter how deep he searched within himself, he could not find himself to be upset at a face such as Sir Jeon’s.  _

 

_ So he stood next to the man, and although watching the crowds dance was fun, he desperately wanted to join. It was exciting! The galloping on display here wasn’t refined in the slightest, no rule in the steps, no measure in distance that people stood, it was organized chaos that Mingyu longed to participate in.  _

 

_ He turned his head, fixing his gaze on Wonwoo. He was a collage of color, an oil painting with the richest of paint. His thin white tunic was stained with purple, orange, yellow, and green dust pigments that had been thrown about. His hair was curled slightly, matted a little with a bit of bright orange dust. Little specks of orange and purple rested upon his cheeks, and dull streaks of color remained there from when he had tried to wash some dust from his face in a nearby stream. His smile shined brightly under the light of the lanterns hung over their heads. He was a living shard of stained glass, breathing art. _

 

_ Time always seemed to slow down a bit whenever he stared at Wonwoo. However; the other seemed to notice this time, just one moment out of the hundreds that he hadn’t, his eyes flicking in Mingyu’s direction before turning his head.  _

 

_ “You seem to be quite burdened.” Wonwoo says, his smile fading into a thin-lipped smirk.  _

 

_ Suddenly, Mingyu feels as if he’d been living without water for his entire life.  _

 

_ “Ah, yes, well-“ Mingyu’s throat closes off, a strangled chuckle escaping his lips before continuing, “I wanted to ask if you were feeling well.”  _

 

_ “Feeling very high in spirit. Thank you.” Wonwoo gives a quick nod, but his expression doesn’t falter. “I can tell that isn’t all that weighs against you.”  _

 

_ Mingyu’s shoulders shrink, crunching inward towards his torso as his nervousness grows within him.  _

 

_ “You can tell?”  _

 

_ “It isn’t very hard to read an open book, Sir Kim.”  _

 

_ Mingyu huffs, blowing an astray strand of hair from his forehead as he pouts. Wonwoo’s eyes glimmer again, all too proud of himself. That madman finds such joy in his own cleverness, doesn’t he?  _

 

_ “Well, I simply wanted to know if you’d fancy a dance with me, but you can consider that offer wasted.”  _

 

_ “Why waste an offer you want to act on? I’ll dance with you.”  _

 

_ Mingyu blinks, his soul lighting up in an excited blaze like the lanterns above.  _

 

_ “You would like to?” _

 

_ “Well, in a dance like this, we won’t have to fret over if we look like a pair of fools. My ballroom skills may not be as pristine as yours, but even a man such as I can do a simple trot!”  _

 

_ The smile that blooms on Mingyu’s face is perhaps brighter than the lanterns above.  _

 

_ “Lead the way!”  _

 

_ Wonwoo chuckles, grabbing one of Mingyu’s forearms, and reaching for his hand with the other of his hands.  _

 

_ “I don’t know how to do anything else!”  _

 

_ Hopping into the fray, it truly matters not who leads. The crowd is an endless push and pull, elbows and feet repeatedly mashing together and darting away, laughter soaring over the song as if it belongs in the melody.  _

 

_ In this dream of his, time seems slower. The flurry of people brushing against them aren’t as bothersome as they rush around them in their own discoordinate dance. He’s able to catch every single light that flickers in Wonwoo’s dark eyes, able to observe every petal that falls onto his head and is blown away by the quick pace of their feet. Wonwoo’s eyes aren’t even on Mingyu, they’re observing the bright world around him, hectic and fleeting, even as their legs tangle and they trip over each other time and time again. It’s a moment in time that Mingyu wishes to pause in, to exist in it for just a while longer. A subconsciously pivotal moment in which he won’t be able to forget, not even in the supposed paradise of his rest. Only in his sleep is he aware of the way his heart beats erratically, unable to keep pace with the music. Though he had gained some sort of sleepy clarity, he would not awaken to the same feeling.  _

 

_ So he dances on nimble feet, fingers brushing against Wonwoo’s lower back, savoring the gentle curve of his spine until— _

 

Mingyu wakes with a jolt and a gasp, quickly clutching at his sheets to make sure he’s truly heard a sound. With bated breath he waits, and after a moment, there’s another round of gentle knocking on his door.

 

He thinks of his own gentle sorrow to be awaken so suddenly, to be robbed of his vivid memories that unfolded in his dreams so soon. The pillowy splendor of the bed sucked him back in for a moment more, soft sheets caressing his sleepy skin. He had longed to remain in the night before, even if he could only do so within the confines of his sleep. Yet, a knock at the heavy dark wood door called to him, and he had no choice but to answer.

 

He rises slowly, stretching his arms over his head with a quiet groan. They fall upon his head, smoothing over his wild bird’s nest of hair as his feet meet the cool floor. He tries to tidy himself slightly, reaching for a thick night robe of blue and yellow, a pattern of the swirling skies. Once deeming himself visibly passing to the eye, he opens the heavy door to peek at the one who had woken him. 

 

The kind smile of an older woman greeted him, her hair tied neatly behind her, fashioned beneath a small black hat that blended partially against into her ebony strands of graying hair. Her smile was small and polite, even as it stretched her sagging features and accentuated her tired crows feet. Her name is as gentle as she, called Gerda, but she had not allowed Mingyu the use of her name, her reasoning being that a future King need not acknowledge her name. He’d learned that this woman was no ordinary maid, but Wonwoo’s most trusted attendant. He’d called her the closest thing he had to a grandmother, and he loved her as tenderly as she, so stern with manner, would allow him to. 

 

“Good morning,” Gerda speaks as she gives a polite bow to her head. “I apologise for waking you so early, when breakfast had not even been prepared.” 

 

“It’s fine, dear woman. What brings you?” 

 

“I bring unfortunate news this morning, but you need not wear such a grim countenance, good sir.” Her eyes glint knowingly, watching as Mingyu’s worried frown snaps back into a neutral line. “The young master is not feeling well in health, and in order for a quicker recovery, he’s decided to stay in his bed today. He wanted to write you a note, but I had forced him to sleep more, and told him I would tell you his words from my own tongue.” 

 

Mingyu nods understandingly, although his expression still teeters into grimness. 

 

“You need not frown! You may still leave this palace and adventure on your own. I believe you’ve been here long enough to know your way around our city. Wonwoo does wish to send his regrets on being unable to guide you today, so soon before your departure tomorrow.” 

 

“It’s alright. I only wish for his health.” Mingyu smiles, gently waving off the concerns of the maid. “Do you think he would be alright if I paid a visit to his quarters when he wakes again?”

 

“I’m afraid not. He doesn’t like to display himself when he is feeling poorly.” 

 

“I see.” Mingyu says, quickly biting his lip to keep himself from showing a frown once more. “Thank you for informing me.”

 

“Of course, sir. I will leave you now. Your breakfast will be prepared shortly.” 

 

Mingyu nods to dismiss her, and sighs when his door has been shut, allowing himself to look as displeased as he pleases. He isn’t upset with Wonwoo, of course, it’s more so disappointment at himself. Perhaps he had pushed Wonwoo too far when he had asked to dance with him… 

 

Even after he had busied himself and eaten, guilt still poked holes into his mind, and the air that left his skull was hot and filled with frenzy. Once the afternoon sun had proclaimed her throne high amongst the clouds, Mingyu had deemed it too lovely a day to simply sit in his room and mope over the blame he had decided to place upon his own shoulders. After a quick change of outfit, he left the palace with a small leather bag full of coins and his personal sketchbook in hand. 

 

It was a rather long walk back to the sunflower fields, but once he had arrived, he sat under one of the lush sugar maples, sheltering himself from the blistering sun with a patch of cool grass that did the same. With his stick of granite, which had been whittled down into a chalky stub throughout his excessive nightly sketching, he attempted to capture the sway of the sunflowers that stood just below the slope of the hill. As a perfectionist, it took him a rather long time to produce a sketch that he was proud of, something that he wouldn’t be ashamed to give to his sick friend back at the palace. Once he had pulled his hand away, proud of his work, he realized that he had smudged it with that damned left hand of his. Thus, he had to start again.

 

He took a little bit of a break when some familiar children approached him, asking him if he had wanted to play with them for a little while, just as he had done on the first day that he was here. He declined politely, but he did draw the children per their request, and allowed them to keep the picture. When they had gone about their own way, Mingyu wondered if they would ever recognize the name that he had signed on the paper. He also thought that one day, he’d rather like to have children of his own.  _ Does Wonwoo like children? _

 

Once he had finally drawn a sketch worthy of Wonwoo’s beautiful land, having took the extra precaution to not smudge or harm his work, he immediately set back to the palace. However, he did stop just once to purchase a basket, filling it with fruit that would hopefully revitalize Wonwoo’s healthy spirit. 

 

He had to sneak back into the palace, as to not be seen by his carriage drivers. If he were known to have gone out on his own, someone would surely give him quite an earful! Luckily, he went back into his room unscathed, and prepared a little note for Wonwoo. 

 

_ Good Evening!  _

 

_ I do hope that you aren’t feeling too sick! I worried deeply when I was told this morning that you felt unwell… Perhaps we have been having too much fun in the past few days! To try and lift your spirits, and perhaps spoil your dinner a little bit, I’ve brought you back some fruit. They’re good for your health, you know! I would be delighted if you ate a lot! You do seem a bit thin. Not in a bad way, of course! I think that you are perfectly made. Anyway, allow me to tell you the events of today! As you read, I prepared a little visual for you. Is it familiar? It should be! I know I am not the best artist to walk the earth, but I draw with my soul! I’ve tried to capture the brightness of your sunflower field, but unfortunately, I only had one stick of granite with me. If I had thought to have time to paint, I surely would have brought some with me!  _

 

_ I had a bit of a lazy day, probably as you have, too. I went down to admire the sights of the nature again, tanning my skin a little and saving the sight with my crude art. I met those children again, the ones who I ran with on my first day here. They told me to draw them, and in turn, they told me stories. The first tale, told by the girl with the braids, was about a big yellow dragon that hoarded gold deep and far underneath the ground, and when he was defeated by the first king of this land, the gold was never found. She told me that story is why the sunflowers here are so golden! The second story, told by who I assume was her brother, spun a much more frightening thread. He said that a beautiful ghoul rested within the waters of the stream that ran parallel to the land, near the border of your city. At night, the ghoul would leave the water, singing a song to lure children to her, so she could take them as her own! Are stories like this common here? They are quite dreadful! They are very fascinating though, I do enjoy a good horror story, even if I find it hard to sleep later… Ah, is that childish of me? Maybe I’m just a child trapped in a man’s body.  _

 

_ After that, I came back here, and I immediately began writing you this note! ...Oh. Dinner was just delivered to my room. That means the fruit I’ve gotten for you will have to be your dessert… I hope that’s alright with you! Please do eat a lot! The chefs you’ve hired here are very talented. I covet so much of what you have! How will I return to my own home, when you’ve made me so fond of everything about yours?  _

 

_ I hope that you are eating well. You need not respond to this note, I simply wanted to tell you about my day, and give you my well wishes.  Feel better!  _

 

_ Your guest, Sir Kim.  _

 

Satisfied after his dinner and even more so with his letter, he sets his empty platter outside of his room and heads to the room he’s pretty sure was Wonwoo’s. He can’t be certain, but he’s sure that the double doors in the hallway across from his room would be the master’s chambers. After all, it was positioned perfectly to look over the gardens below, Mingyu had noticed this when he glanced through the windows near the room. Plus, he had almost tripped over a tray quite similar to the one that Mingyu had just set out of his door. Surely, Wonwoo should be here...

 

He knocked on the wood of the entrance, and proceeded to crouch down onto his knees to slip his papers into the thin slot beneath the door. 

 

“Wonwoo, are you awake? I’ve brought you something! I hope you are resting well.” He says, pressing his lips up against the thin crack of the door, hoping that the other inside would be able to hear. Once he had finished speaking, he held his breath, waiting for something to happen. After a moment, there was the distinct sound of a familiar  _ thunk  _ against the ground. 

 

Mingyu grinned to himself. That’s the signature sound of Wonwoo’s heavy cane drawing near, thumping against the wood before each slow step. 

 

It took a while, but when the edge of the papers disappeared, Mingyu’s heart rate sped up. 

 

_ Oh, this is silly! How juvenile of me! I should’ve waited for tomorrow morning!  _

 

“Sir Kim, Can you hear me?” Wonwoo’s voice is muffled by the thickness of the door, and after a second of thought, Mingyu presses his lips back up against the crack of the door. 

 

“Not really! This door is quite thick. May I come in?” 

 

“No. I have an idea though. Wait there.” 

 

Mingyu does just that, sitting back up onto his legs, waiting at the foot of Wonwoo’s door for what feels like a century. Then, after a while of waiting, the edge of a paper slips beneath the crack of the door. He moves to sit a bit more comfortably, with his back against Wonwoo’s bedroom door.

 

_ Dear guest,  _

 

_ I was worried that you would be unable to enjoy the day. I am quite relieved to hear that you had spent your time doing something that you like, even though I could not accompany you. I do sincerely apologise for that, I very much longed to be a good host to you. You’re the very first guest that I’ve had in quite a long time, I truly wanted to impress you. Instead, it seems that you are the one that have impressed me. Your art is wonderful! I wish that I could draw like you! What sturdy hands you have… I am an envious man!  _

 

_ Stories like that are quite common here. I think that it’s important for people to have tales to tell, even if they are purely fictional. Stories are legacies, in their own way, and if the history of my land will be passed down by stories, then I will fully embrace it! I, as a lover of literature, don’t mind either way! I do find it a little bit funny that you humored the children for so long though. I believe you might just be on to something. It’s possible that you are just a big child. Though I don’t consider it a bad thing.  _

_ It makes you a bright person. I enjoy being around you.  _

 

_ Have you left the fruits outside of my door? I will take them when you retire to your room. I hope you sleep well tonight, Mingyu. I know that you have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow.  _

 

_ Penned,  _

_ Your host. _

 

Wonwoo’s handwriting is just as messily done as always, and little dots of ink speckle the page like little freckles. Somehow, it’s endearing. Mingyu looks down from the page to find another blank sheet of paper beside him, and a quill that had been rolled to him, touching his knee. Mingyu stares, unsure of how to write without ink, and after a moment, a well of ink is slid under the door with a muffled apology from Wonwoo on the other side. Then, of course, Mingyu immediately begins to write his reply. 

 

_ Host,  _

 

_ Of course! I will leave them outside, out of respect for your wishes to remain unseen. As someone who cares quite a bit about image, I understand that a man of high standing, of which you are, would not want to seem weak! I don’t truly believe that illness inherently makes one weak, so please do not feel ashamed of your state. I think you are very strong. I do not know if I possess the inner strength to do what you do. You are a truly noble man, Sir Jeon. I admire you greatly.  _

 

Mingyu bites his lip, his pen stuttering before he sets it down on the paper again. Oh, dear. Why does his heart beat so wildly? It’s unruly, even, beating entirely out of time, on a rhythm that Mingyu hasn’t really felt before in a conscious state. A thought occurs to him, just as terrifying as it is calming. However, what does he have to lose?

 

_ Sir Jeon, I think I am fond of you. Is that alright? Would it be indecent for me, a prince as foolish as a court jester, to want to call you by your first name?  _

 

_ Penned, _

_ Mingyu.  _

 

Mingyu slips the pen and the paper back under the door, gnawing on his own lower lip, tasting his own flaking skin as he nibbles on it. He waits, his core shaking with nervousness unparalleled to anything he had ever felt before. 

 

After moments of waiting, passing through time that slinks by slower than slugs, paper is slipped back under the door. 

 

_ Mingyu,  _

 

_ Why would it be odd? Isn’t it normal for friends to want to grow closer? I think that everyone who longs to be close with someone would be fond of them! Please do not degrade yourself over something so miniscule! I would be honored to have you call me by my name, and I, to you.  _

_ I am fond of you too, my friend.  _

 

_ Wonwoo. _

 

The giggle that rises from Mingyu is airy and small, crinkling the paper in his hands as he holds it close to his face. 

 

He certainly didn’t mean fondness to be taken so lightly, but now that he’s said it, it all makes sense. The hectic feelings that brew within him and follow him into his sleep seem crystal clear. He’s fond, in a way that is further than soft kinship. Though, when Wonwoo refers to him as a friend so gently, how could he ask for much more? Yes, he would be perfectly content to have Wonwoo call him friend, even if it means these budding feelings of his must fade. He’d do that for the man whose palace was nearly inhabited. He’d do much more for him, really, but he wouldn’t mind to start with this. 

 

With his smile unfading, he puts his pen to paper once more. 

 

_ Wonwoo,  _

 

_ I’m glad you feel that way. You’ve made me feel such joy the whole time that I’ve been here! I do hope that you’ll open your home to me again soon. Actually, I’ve got a better idea! You should return to my land! I’d be leaping to the heavens with joy to have the chance take you on a real tour, just as you have done with me! Oh, you’d even get to meet Aji! That would be most wonderful! You must work hard to be well, alright? I will ensure that my palace is ready for your arrival whenever you desire!  _

 

_ For now, my friend, I implore you to rest more. Enjoy the fruit! I hope to see you in better health tomorrow!  _

 

_ Mingyu. _

 

Mingyu slips the paper under the door and flicks the pen with it before pressing his lips back to the crack of the door. 

 

“Goodnight, Wonwoo. Go lay down.” 

 

“I will, Mingyu. Goodnight.” 

 

Mingyu doesn’t sleep for hours. In fact, he practically stays up all night, just replaying the way that Wonwoo sounded saying his first name. His voice is so deep, so devilishly delectable, and even though it was muffled by the heavy door, it surely doesn’t stop Mingyu from slipping into his own fantasies for the rest of the night. 

 

Alone in his room, staring up at the ebony wood ceiling as dark as a night without stars, he allows himself to childishly indulge in the simple act of calling his name once more.

 

“Wonwoo.” He whispers, savoring the name on his tongue as if it were sweet honey. 

 

After that, he sends himself into a joyful hysteria, rolling over onto his stomach and kicking at his sheets, giggling as loudly as he wishes to let out the excitement in his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to my beloved gf for betaing this <3 
> 
> also, she gave me a fanart about a week or two ago! i'll link it at the bottom hehe.. she's super talented so check out her art!
> 
> i believe it's worth noting: you may know from my twitter @bigcaratfool that this fic does indeed have a set chapter count, but it's going to be a long fic, and i felt that the long chapter count might deter new viewers from giving this fic a chance... so please don't give up on this fic quite yet! the plot is fully finished, it'll just be a while until we get there <3 
> 
> anyway i anticipated this chapter being shorter than usual but that did not happen lol... ur welcome? :3 i hope you enjoy this chapter! comments r... always appreciated.... and if u wanna be friends hmu on twitter uwuwuwuwuwuwu
> 
> the art mentioned above: 
> 
> https://twitter.com/peachbwun/status/1116909766981275648


	7. At Morning, Departure

Jeon Wonwoo’s estate, although exquisitely grand, feels as hollow and barren as the grounds of a long-deserted battlefield. Scarlet red carpeting that lines the floor of the halls are reminiscent of blood long soaked into the dying, dry yellow grass. The deep wooden walls, likely containing an architect’s passion, feel cold like worn dirt beneath Prince Mingyu’s fingertips. The porcelain vases and marble statuettes sat upon pedestals fill the space between wide weathervane windows in the long corridors, standing like solemn swords in terrain, mere clutter to fill the space devoid of life. There is no bustle, no distant melody that tickles or sours the ear, there is hardly a sound besides the gentle birds chirping in the tall trees that keep their distance from the palace. It matters not what paintings decorate the walls, or how gently the sun tries to warm the wood, it is austere. It is lonely.

 

Upon arriving here, Mingyu had focused only on the beauty of it all, fresh eyes excitedly hoarding all of the new sights. Now that he has become familiar with it all, he recognizes just how deafeningly quiet Wonwoo’s life is. 

 

The young Prince truly wishes he didn’t have to leave, to leave Wonwoo in a place so quiet and large, a palace as lively as a coffin. Oh, if he could dare to dream it, he would seize that man into his arms and take him upon horseback until his gleaming seas are within sight. Wonwoo’s country is beautiful, he has not forgotten it so soon, but it is the home he takes each breath in that spills sadness into Mingyu’s soul.

 

He had journeyed from the left breast of the house, back to the lobby he had first entered, and continued to venture forth into the lower right wing. It’s just as still, no sound of movement or breath, even in what he figures would be the servant quarters. Up another set of stairs, quiet feet careful to maintain stealth, he explores the upper quarter of the right breast. He finds nothing but closed doors and paintings that hang purely to fill the empty space. Would this estate have need for so many rooms? For visitors that surely do not come? Mingyu ponders this, feeling deeply his own melancholia, until he comes across a hallway without windows-- A hallway with an abrupt end. 

 

Curious, Mingyu turns to walk towards that dead end, surveying the large portraits that hang neatly in a row. Some paintings are very old, possibly older than this building, paint long-faded with age unfathomable. As he continues through, the parchment becomes smoother and brighter, more colors are used in the portraits, which he soon recognizes to be royalty. Mingyu figures it must be the lineage of this land, the elders of the royal family who lived long before their great grandparents were but a far off dream. Each figure portrayed in their grand youth, of how these people most wished to be remembered. 

 

He stops before the painting of a man, with a thin grin on his face as he stared forward. His eyes were slanted and sharp, but they were kind, glittering with the same beauty that Wonwoo’s eyes hold when he laughs. Unlike most royal portraits that displayed no sliver of personality but of masculine strength, he could feel the kindness from the man that must be Wonwoo’s father. The likeness of their strong features, a thin nose bridge, a strong jaw, and dark eyes, was absolutely uncanny. Wonwoo must be so kind because his father, with tender eyes and calm brows, taught him such kindness. Mingyu felt calmed looking at this man, whose serenity radiated from the paint. 

 

Yet, it was the portrait next to his, of a woman who faced the painting of that man, that looked the most like Wonwoo. Her long black hair was tied into a braid, cascading down onto her bare shoulder, a white love-knot plaiting between her braid. A thrice-layered string of pearls clung tightly to her slender neck, with a brilliant and colorful jewel in the middle. The jewel was shaped like a clover, with each leaf a different color. Magnificent was the shine of the emerald, of the citrine, of the amethyst and the ruby. Her skin smooth, but her cheekbones pointedly high, and her blade-sharp eyes fixated on the portrait of the man that hung beside hers. Yet, as strong as her features were, a very small smile was painted onto her plump lips, the very same shape of Wonwoo’s. She was young here, wasn’t she? A beauty she was, a heart that must have loved so deeply for her King. Had she chosen a wedding portrait, before that loveknot would be removed from her dark locks? 

 

Wonwoo was a perfect creation of these two, a truly ravishing couple. The handsome King was forever smiling gently, eyes forward as they shined upon a hopeful future. The beautiful Queen looked at nothing but her King, frozen in love for as long as this painting would remain untouched. 

 

Yet, although she was the most recent ruler,  and to his knowledge still alive, there was a portrait beside hers that hung behind a sheer black veil. If someone had been recently deceased, surely a festival so bright would not have been held so quickly after a death. The period of mourning was at least one full year… 

 

Mingyu searched around for a chord, a small rope to lift the veil from the painting, and once he had found it he wished that he had not the foolish audacity to tug on it. 

 

Before him was the image of his secretly beloved Jeon Wonwoo. 

 

He held his breath as his eyes traced the image of Wonwoo, who was less gaunt and thin than the current Wonwoo was. His shoulders seemed broader, more squared as he stood proudly. His lips were perhaps not as full, his cheekbones wider and less pointed, with full cheeks rounding out his face. Besides these imperfections, it had to be Wonwoo. Was this how Wonwoo wanted to be remembered? 

 

Mingyu’s heart sank. It throbbed in his chest, knocking unsteadily within him until it was all that the young Prince could hear. 

 

Was Wonwoo truly presumes to be a dead man, although he still drew breath? 

 

He let go of the chord, letting the veil fall over the portrait once more, protecting not the work of art, but Mingyu’s own emotional eyes. 

 

Wonwoo had said that nobody would recognize him. Was this why? The statue of that man atop the stallion in the city square. Mingyu had thought it beautiful yet somehow familiar when he had first laid his eyes upon it-- Was that supposed to be Wonwoo as well? 

 

He stared at the thin fabric before him as his heart burns through several emotions as quickly as fire burns through paper. His disbelief washes over him like cold water, his denial dries through his wet spirit like unforgiving wind, and after, rage ignites within his chest, wanting to curse Wonwoo’s family and his foolish people for allowing him to be forgotten so easily. Then, Mingyu’s fiery rage turns to ash, and leaves a warm burn in his chest, a kindled fire controlled once more by his mind. 

 

Perhaps Wonwoo had reason. Perhaps that Prince had reason to distance himself, to allow himself to be considered long gone. Wonwoo didn’t attend many parties, and at Mingyu’s ball, he was treated like he was a walking myth, like a spirit that had been seen for the first time. Mingyu had thought it too, that he looked like a spectre, until approaching and recognizing his flesh. He doesn’t attend Alliance for Peace treaty meetings, nor does he have someone fill in his empty chair… Wonwoo does not speak of his own future, but rather of selling his land in a bid in hope that it’s future would be secure… Did he not wish the same for his own legacy? 

 

Does Wonwoo even want a legacy? 

 

Tired of his own internal, pointless toiling, he turns out of that hallway and curses it silently, hoping that it would remain a secret within these walls. 

 

Utter blasphemy. He won’t let Wonwoo think that way. He won’t let Wonwoo be lost to time, even if that man believes that he does not possess much more of it. If he has to write novels of that man’s life without a scribe, to publish millions of copies with his own pen, he would do so. Wonwoo deserves better than this, to allow himself to lie in a grave while he still breathes. 

 

The quiet flame that burns within his spirit now, he will seize it and deliver it to Wonwoo one way or another, simply because that man trusts him. Because that man holds him in high regard, and considers him a friend. 

 

With hasty steps, it does not take him a while to return to the lobby, and on his way up the staircase to the left of the estate, back to his room, Gerda appears from the hallway. 

 

“Oh!” She says, dull surprise in her eyes as she stops abruptly. “I was wondering where you were, sire.” 

 

“I was outside,” Mingyu lies, forcing a grin to shape unnaturally on his lips. “I apologise for any inconvenience I have caused you.”

 

“You have caused us no problems, Sir Kim! We would be honored to have you stay here whenever you desire it. We will always have plenty of rooms available for you.” 

 

Mingyu’s grin falters, and he pauses to wonder. He accepted in passing that his mother had moved away, but how he thinks,  _ had Wonwoo chosen to be locked here on his own? _

 

“I had thought it rude to ask, but I supposed there is not a time more fitting than now. Why is Wonwoo the only inhabitant of such a vast palace? Why did the Queen leave?”

 

“Ah…” Gerda looks away from Mingyu for a moment, presumably mulling over her words, as careful as any royal attendant ought to be. “It was beyond Wonwoo’s control. The Queen simply wished to live away from this place, and unfortunately, that meant the young master was left alone.” 

 

It’s still saddening, but Mingyu thinks,  _ at least it wasn’t his choice to become isolated. That would be far too sorrowful.  _

 

“I do pity him so,” Gerda speaks, allowing herself to sigh, to show a sliver of emotion behind the barrier that maids must stand behind, “but he still lives well, despite the emptiness of this place. It would still do him some good if you returned soon to provide him company. He was delighted to hear you would be staying with him after his first invitation.” 

 

Mingyu grins with genuinity, small and a little lopsided. 

 

“That man could send me a thousand invitations, and I would respond to them all with a giddy confirmation.” 

 

Gerda shares a smile with Mingyu for a moment before putting her hands on her hips and righting her posture. 

 

“Well, I believe you would have to leave in order to accept an invitation, wouldn’t you? We have prepared your carriage already, and your lackeys have just finished packing your luggage. You should leave before noon arrives.” 

 

Mingyu nods, and seeing that he has no choice, he turns to descend down the stairs. Gerda rushes to head in front of him, leading so that she may hold the door for him. Yet, before she sets a hand on the knob of the entrance door, Mingyu stops to look up at the top of the staircase. 

 

“Oh, Sir Kim. I had forgotten to inform you… Sir Jeon continues to rest today. I apologise, but I had not disturbed his slumber in hopes that he would recover sooner.” 

 

The crow of disappointment settles upon his shoulders, but with a quick shake he sends that bird away, letting that feeling leave on it’s cursed wings. 

 

“That’s quite alright. I wish for his health as strongly as you. Please do send him my thanks for opening his home to me.” 

 

“Of course, sir. Shall we?” 

 

With a final nod given by the Prince, Gerda opens the door for him, bowing her head as he walks past her and descends down the stairs. Moments later, he’s in a carriage, a basket of fruits placed beside him. 

 

“Sir Jeon had requested it last night, so that you would have dessert for your journey home. His words, not mine.” 

 

Mingyu huffs out a quiet laugh, kept secretive behind the back of his hand. 

 

“I will return soon.” 

 

Gerda smiles at him, still lovely despite how the sun ages her and shadows her wrinkles, and steps away from the pearl-white carriage that Mingyu sits in. 

 

Mingyu turns in his seat to look out of the other window, up at the palace that he was about to leave. He studies the brick, memorizing every ridge of this house, until he spots the window of what he thought he  remembered to be a hallway. He squints, spying a strange figure that seems to hide behind the frame of the window, until the broadness of the figure steps into the light and becomes clear. 

 

A hand raises, slow and gentle, and begins to wave. 

 

The young Prince of the East feels his heart swell in his chest. Wonwoo woke up! He felt well enough to stand! 

 

Mingyu quickly sticks his head through the window, bringing an arm with him, and began to wave wildly up at the man who looked down at him from above. 

 

He must be laughing at him. Or at least, he hopes he is. He hopes that Wonwoo is smiling, and that they can share a smile one more time before it becomes a memory that Mingyu revisits in his dreams. 

 

Mingyu smiles so widely that he feels his supple skin stretch, finding it hard to see with how much he’s crinkled his face. Yet, as the carriage begins to turn and he hears Gerda’s soft laugh, he continues to wave and rival the sun with the brightest of smiles until he cannot twist his neck anymore, and until the the Jeon estate disappears behind the hill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is shorter than usual ive been very busy with finals stuff!!! to make up for it ill try to have the next few chapters up in quick succession


	8. Letter Three

_ To Wonwoo,  _

 

_ My friend, I already miss the plentiful colors of your land! I had not thought my city to be bland before, but as of now, I’m always wondering where all of the flowers are! Yes, beautiful lanterns strung above uniquely colored buildings, small flowers in every window… It’s a sight that’s unique to your country. However, there is one thing unique to my country that I feel makes me the luckiest prince in the world! I have the wonder of the bright beautiful sea, just always in view of the corner of one’s eye, and you lack such a sight! Shall I declare myself a winner, or should I accept a loss? As much as I love the sea, for it’s beauty and it’s breeze, there is something that gives your land the upper hand. Truly, your land holds an unspoken treasure-- do you have an idea of what it is? Even if you guessed, I wouldn’t tell you the answer! You will have to figure it out for yourself.  _

 

_ Ah, I was just thinking of the flower crown you had given me before I had decided to pen you this letter. I’ve hung it up on a nail that I’ve driven into my wall just over my desk, so that when I am cooped up here writing a letter or combing through a decree, I have something bright to remind me of a more relaxing time. The flowers have wilted now, but when I look at it, I still see it as a young wreath of lively petals. It’s a gift from you, so I fully intend on keeping it for the rest of my life! Just a few days ago, Aji tried to jump up onto my desk and reach it, but her little legs could not jump that high! She’s a springy little thing, but I have beaten that little scoundrel in a battle of wits yet again!  _

 

_ What have you been up to as of late? I’ve been drawing more recently. Do you still have that sketch of the sunflower field? I wasn’t very proud of it, so I’ve drawn you a better one! You can burn the other version for all I care. It was merely a draft. I believe this one to be far better. I didn’t have time to paint it, but I hope that you can feel my happiness through the page. Yellow is such a happy color, as opposed to the gloating gold of my land. Yet, the many rings upon my fingers shine gold even now… Oh well. I will manage, as always. Please enjoy the humble drawing of your flowers! Ah! Flowers! That reminds me of your garden. Would it be alright if I mailed you a bit of seeds? Your garden is wonderfully wild, as if nature had decided on growing your plants according to her tastes. She truly has a fantastic hand, to be able to weave plants and vines in such a majestic way… You may be envious of the strict order of my gardens, carefully tended to by a crew of picky gardeners, but I envy the personality of your plants! I had wondered briefly, if flowers from my garden would take upon a new appearance in your rich soil. If you have any request of seed, I will gladly send you anything you desire!  _

 

_ Have you been feeling well? I have been worrying quite a lot, you know. You weren’t even able to face me as I left… Do not worry, I did not feel too disheartened, but it did make me want to check on you sooner! How long do your spells of sickness last? I do hope that they aren’t too long! You deserve more days in the sun! You really are quite pale, you know. Does it bother you that I’ve sent you a letter so shortly after I have left? You could send me a letter on the same day you had left my land, and I would graciously devour it! That reminds me, you should visit me soon! There are few sights better than the coastline at sunset! In the late summer, near the cusp of autumn, the sun seems to burn brighter. She turns the whole sky, and even the vast waters below a breathtaking coral. Is it orange? Is it pink? Who knows! It is as fascinating as it is gorgeous either way! The sun brings phenomenons that I so wish to show to you…  _

 

_ I had been meaning to ask you this, dear sir, but I had not known if it were an appropriate question. Your land is large enough to have a seat in The Alliance for Peace Council, is it not? I have been alerted by my advisor that the next Council meeting was due to take place in my country in late Autumn, and it is a task of mine to figure out who would be attending. As the future head of the Alliance, it is high time that I put more priority into our meetings. I have always cared for it deeply, understanding the fragility and the importance of upholding this treaty, but… I suppose I should talk about that another time. Instead of rambling on about my own worries. Instead, I would like to extend an invitation to you. Would you like me to save you a chair? I feel that, as your land is written to be a part of this Council, you should be in attendance… No matter how small your land has become since the years following The War, it was once ravaged by brutish bloodshed and heartbreaking loss as all other lands surrounding ours, and is thus included in the Treaty for Peace. Do let me know if you would like a seat on the council, I would be blessed to have you step foot upon my sands once more…  _

 

_ I truly do wish to see you soon, Wonwoo. I visit your fields quite often in my dreams. I feel that you should see the glory of my land, as I have with yours. It would be the highest of honors to receive praise from you, my dear friend. Please alert me as quickly as you can if I should prepare for an upcoming arrival! I have many things to prepare for the Council meeting at the end of the summer, but I will gladly open up my palace to you, if you so choose to stay longer! I have included a small packet of cloth in this envelope containing tulip seeds! I tried to ask the gardeners what colors these flowers would grow to be, but they did not know. I guess it will be a surprise for the both of us! I hope you enjoy them, and when they grow, I hope they serve as a pretty reminder of your dear friend who thinks about you from quite a distance away. _

 

_ I look forward to hearing from you soon!  _

 

_ Signed, _

_ Your friend, Mingyu.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helo i should be studying for finals but as you can see i am a clown


	9. Letter Four

_ To Mingyu,  _

 

_ How eased my spirit is, to have been given the knowledge of your enjoyment of my country! I truly believe that you could not have visited during a more joyous time of year! Honored was I, to spend Sunfluery with a friend as lively as you. It touches me deeply that you relish in the same beauty as I do, thinking fondly of the flowers and the colors my people adore too… Ah, how will I enjoy another festival without you here? An energetic man you are, whose frenzy can prove quite contagious. I could feel that same energy through both of your drawings, even the work of art that you told me to discard — Which I certainly will not do — I could envision the little dance the great leaves of the sunflowers do as the wind rustles through them. Each lovely curve of a petal, the strength of each stalk, you captured it all wonderfully. You have an artist’s eye, you know! I feel that it is quite noble of you to pursue creativity when you lack the time to exercise it more often. Creativity helps liven the spirit of man, it’s important that you keep that alive and thriving! Really, how much of a fool are you, to have me throw away a work of art that was founded by such a talented hand? Would you ask me to commit a crime again? I am no criminal! I will have both works framed in my room, and if you do not like it, you can come and take them down yourself!  _

 

_ Despite my praise, I shouldn’t compliment you so much, lest your bulbous head grows larger… I am a sick man, my strength usually crippled by my weak health, but even I could walk straighter than you! You’re much like that little pet you speak of, constantly darting about and unable to keep a thought. An unruly hound you have proven yourself to be! If I hadn’t kept a keen eye on you, I’m sure you would have gotten yourself lost or in plenty of precarious situations if not for my presence! I often considered you delirious. Worse than I, who has dealt with many a fever in my days…  _

 

_ I had assumed you would worry. I apologize again, very deeply, for leaving you without a proper host during the final days of your stay. However, I am feeling a bit better now, able to move about and hang around outside for a little while. To answer your query, I have been a sickly man since birth, and thus, I am always a bit ill. There is usually a deep ache in my bones and a tightness in my lungs, and if I am not careful with myself I can trigger a fever that will leave me absolutely immobile. There are times in which I feel worse, but there are times when I am feeling quite the opposite. I rest often, preserving my strength so that I can do what I wish in the future. I live my best, because if I let my condition hinder me, I will hardly live at all. When I had first met you at your birthday celebration, I was still a little bit ill, but not so much that I couldn’t move. I am a stubborn man, so I had given myself no choice but to attend. I have no regrets about meeting you that night, even if I was unsightly in the eyes of most of your guests. However, I do regret leaving you without a host, I do not regret pushing myself to my limit. Running with you, dancing with you, letting go of my fears of my own fragile state, are moments I will carry within my heart. It is better to have made memories, even if that comes with a sacrifice, than to have not made any memories at all. I hope that you will share the same sentiment with me.  _

 

_ If I am feeling well enough, I will definitely visit you! My health seems to have stabilized as of now, so you could probably plan for me to stay while the Council is corroborating. If I may let out some steam to you for a moment, actually, I would appreciate your attention. I have been kept in the dark about the Council for a while now. When I was alerted to when a meeting would be, I would always send a letter, detailing ideas or suggesting change as I see it fit. However, it had become increasingly clear to me that my letters were never to be seen. I had not received reports of that happened within the doors of the meeting, and soon, I had not recieved any more invitations. Slowly, I had been excluded from an event I should be a part of. For a while, I had nothing to believe but my own fears, that my land was considered too small to be deemed important, or worse, that war was looming once more… Mingyu, I thank you, for allowing me to reclaim my position. A diplomat such as myself deserves such an opportunity! Through hell or high water, I will make my way there as long as my state allows it.  _

 

_ As if my woes have been taken from me, I feel renewed! What a light you are, Kim Mingyu, I am thankful for your existence. The weather is splendid today, and the sun shines warmly onto my soil. It is a wonderful time to plant those tulip seeds you have sent me! I may not look it, but I am a rather fine gardener myself! A bit of dirt beneath one’s nail can do much good for their mood!  _

 

_ Tell me about your summer, Mingyu! You always describe the world around you so sincerely. I am always happy to receive a message from you, dear friend. As a gift for you, I have sent you some Sunflower seeds in return. Try planting them with one of your gardeners! It’s a rather fine hobby to have. I am wishing for your happiness. I will await your next letter! Truly, sir, I am as elated to read these letters from your pen as you are with mine. _

 

_ Signed,  _

_ Your friend, Wonwoo.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanx 2 gf 4 betaing this because if she didnt i would have posted darting as farting and that would have been disastrous 
> 
> semester is almost over!! woo!!!!!!! i need to write an essay right now


	10. Letter Five

_ My friend,  _

 

_ It has been quite a whirlwind of a summer for me! That may be why this letter has been delayed… I’ve been dutifully planning for the Alliance meeting, working hard on finishing the guest list and sending out the summons, as well as writing a bit of an outline of pressing matters that need to be discussed. Just those daily tasks have been rather time consuming, but that’s not all I’ve been up to! I have been spending quite some time with my father, as his duties start to dwindle. Father is in good health, per usual, but he told me that it was high time I begin to carry the entire weight of my land. For the past few years, I had been seated beside him for most hearings of court and matters of the public, learning from him what judgement a King should have. Yet lately, I have been sitting through these hearings alone. Afterward, I often reconvene with him, making sure that I have done what is best. Father trusts me to take more of his sovereign duties, because my coronation date has been set. In the Spring of next year, that heavy crown will be placed upon my head. It’s quite quick, and terrifyingly so as I count the months, but Father wishes to see me rule with his own two eyes for as long as he can. It’s funny, he acts as if he is a dying man, when he is in full health… I figure that the man just wants to retire early, but I suppose I can’t really blame him. There’s quite a bit of stress when you’re the pinnacle of power.  _

 

_ I’m a little worried, can you tell? I suppose I’ll ease up eventually, but I have been working quite tirelessly as of late. I’ve developed a strain in my shoulder, to which my usual pleasures cannot aid. There is not much time to unwind when there doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day. Though, there is still a space of time that is mine alone! I believe I’ve told you my morning routine before. I shall recount it a little bit for you. I will sometimes wake up extra early, before the sun has risen in the sky, and make my way to the beach so that I can see the sun rise over the water. It’s just as beautiful as a sunset, but unfortunately, I have been missing out on those more often than I would find favorable. Goodness, I feel that the pressure of my hand against my pen is much more heavier than normal. Does my ink bleed through the pages? My letter seems so dreary… I apologize for that, my friend, I am just not in a great mood today. I got in a bit of a fight with my father this morning, you see. Is it alright if I tell you? There are not many who dwell within my palace I feel comfortable confiding in…  _

 

_ It’s preposterous how my father expects me to make decisions for good in the lives of my people, and yet, he won’t let me make decisions for my own life. My father wants me to be married before I take the throne. I know he is simply carrying out my mother’s wishes, but I do wish he would not be so stubborn at times. I’m his son, it is not like I am trying to defy him. Before my mother had died, she had told me to live well, to find happiness, and to rule peacefully. Part of the plan to happiness was to find someone to marry, just as my parents had, but It’s hard to find love in the way that my father tried to construct. For so many years, he’s been throwing me parties in hopes that I would find someone I fancied, someone I wished to rule beside me. He wanted to throw another party for me, to which I declined. When that weasel of a man pressed me, I had no choice but to give him the information he requested. I do wish I wasn’t such an open book sometimes, but when someone slams down a book onto it’s spine, the pages have no choice but to fall open. I told him that there may be someone I found my heart overflowing for, and now he won’t stop talking about marriage. Really, just when I feel I may have found someone, he weighs on me far too heavily. That man refuses to cease! It’s aggravating to listen to, and when I am already so stressed, it’s the last thing I want to hear! I understand far too well that he only wishes for my happiness, and he feels that a spouse will help me find peace. My mother was my father’s solace, and he wants me to find mine, too. He wishes a whirlwind romance to lead me to joy, just as it had with him. But that bullheaded man will not try to see my perspective! I am grateful that he wants me to choose, that he won’t simply force me into an arranged marriage, but does he not remember how delicate matters of the heart are? I am a man of tender spirit, just as he is! I fear that if I lay bare my heart so soon, it will be returned to me bleeding and broken. Or worse, I fear that I will bruise the heart of my beloved… I do not wish to marry unless my feelings are reciprocated. To force someone into a marriage is far too cruel. To wound the person I think the dearest of would be to chop off the hand I hold my sabre with. _

 

_ Wonwoo, I have never felt so tender toward someone in my life. I’ve had plenty of crushes before, short-lived feelings that come as quickly as they go, plenty of dreams of the woman or man I would like to spend my life with, but it has never felt like this before. This person that I fancy, it’s much too soon to call it love, and I don’t want to scare that person away from me. I feel that they have just barely begun to trust me! A fool I would be to squander that so soon. Is this what love is supposed to feel like? A heavy fear? I am constantly thinking about him, worrying, wishing for his safety and wellbeing as strongly as a prayer, but I am also daydreaming of his smile. I think I want to be the person to make him smile. His smile is so wonderful, it blooms across his face brighter than a field of flowers under the sun. My chest feels tight when I think about him for too long, and yet, I can’t stop smiling when I think about the moments I have spent with him. If he appears in a dream of mine, I spend the rest of that day floating above ground as if I were walking on clouds. I am completely out of sorts. I feel as if I am nonsensical, babbling tirelessly about the smallest of issues. _

 

_ Do you have someone that you might love, Wonwoo? Have you been in love before? I will tell you more of this man I feel such gentle feelings for, in exchange for such candid information. He looks as if he belongs in the sky, with swirling strands of ebony that fall so gently over his eyes. Oh, when I think of his eyes, I feel too shy to even look out of my window at night. He has stolen the stars and put them there, hoarding that brilliance all to himself. His eyes seem so cold, sharp like icicles in the dead of winter,  they look upon me so warmly. I would like it if I were the only person he looked at that way… No matter where he goes, he blends seamlessly, as if his being was destined to exist to be breathtaking. A humble man he is, and yet, he is admirable. I admire him so deeply. I truly treasure that person. To me, he is worth more than gold. He is rubies, sapphires, diamonds, a treasure hidden, but yet so plainly seen. I feel as if, even if he did not feel the same way toward me, I would still live happily with rejection if he just remained in my life. Is that pathetic? To be happy over the mere thought of being granted his presence? Argh! I wish not to think of this any longer!!! I’m sure in time my father will understand me. I’m sorry for wasting so much of your day on my worries. I truly appreciate you. _

 

_ This letter has become quite dreary, hasn’t it? I’ll make it up to you. A few nights ago, I’ve drawn yet another work of humble art! I woke up in the middle of the night, after a dream of a pleasant memory, and I simply had to sketch it down before it left my mind! It’s a place that is unique, with beauty nearly unrivaled! Yes, it’s another work of your fine nation, but can you blame me? It’s your lavender fields! I tried to draw those tiny little bugs, but it’s quite hard to capture such a thing with only one color. It looks more like dark speckles of confetti floating about, rather than cute little bugs. I do hope you like it. I’m partial to it, but of course, the most critical eye is reserved for one’s own work.  _

 

_ I do hope it will please you to know that I have planted those sunflower seeds! One of my gardeners was particularly fussy with me, saying that such tall flowers would not fit well in my meticulously planned gardens, but I eventually got her to bend to my will! Groveling is a skill a King should not not exercise, but I am still a Prince, so all is well! Did you plant those tulips? If you did, I would like to come see them when they are fully bloomed! You should do the same for me when these gorgeous sunflowers rise gloriously from the dirt!  _

 

_ It won’t be long until you are heading to my lands, is it not? Only about a month I believe! August sure comes quickly! The end of summer is always bittersweet, but I think I will welcome such a time quite happily if you are around for it! I cannot wait to see you again. I feel as if I owe you something, after you had to listen to me ramble for so long. Do let me know if you have anything you would like me to draw for you! I will see you soon!  _

 

_ Yours,  _

_ Mingyu.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mingyu just stressed and havin a gay moment......... and i Feel that.
> 
> good luck to my fellow students preparing for final exams! i took a break from studying to poke at this and then post it... if u read this while studying i hope u enjoyed ur break now get back to studying so u can do well i luv u


	11. Letter Six

_ My friend,  _

 

_ I wonder if this letter will arrive to you before I do. Goodness, sir. I truly feel for you. How burdened you seem to be. You have always spoken so blithely, so carefree and joyful, that I had not wondered before now if you had a care in the world. You must be envious of I, who does not do much rather than sit idly, reading or gardening and tending to my own wellbeing. My mother handles all matters of my people and my country far from my view. Even if I wish to be a part of it, I cannot. Traveling is difficult for me, and my mother does not welcome guests, including her own son. Perhaps we are a little envious of each other, my friend. I wish I could relieve you of your worries, and yet, the shoes you will fill are far greater than the ones that lie away from me. I almost don’t want to tell you of my summer! Will I incur the wrath of this wealthy prince I speak to if I do? Well, I believe you had mentioned I am another worry of yours. Perhaps I can remedy that.  _

 

_ I have been resting well, and resting often. I have been working hard to build up my strength so that I am as stately and as presentable in the eyes of the Alliance as I possibly can be. I have been doing very well, thanks to you. I feel that having a goal provides me the will to gather up what power I do have lingering within me. You have given me something to work toward, and for that, I am grateful. I attribute this good health to you, good sir. I hope that makes you feel a bit better. I do wish there was more I could do for you, who seems to be so worn as of late. You are in a state of such deep ail that even something like love stresses you. I will speak kindly to you, sir. I will speak truth.  _

 

_ I have never been in love. I believe that we had spoken about this before on the night that we met, but my plan for the future is not as idyllic as the future your father has handed to you. I will probably never experience that sort of love you feel. I have let the Queen down for so long, there is not much else I can do beside promise my land safety and protection through a marriage to the one who can offer the most strength and wealth. I live knowing I will not have a long life, but I think not of it. I think of the people who will live long lives, as long as their safety is ensured, as long as their next meal is provided for them. There will be generations that will long outlive my family tree, and I hope that my miniscule life with water that tree of legend. The prosperity of my people has far more importance than the richness of my life. I do hope that this does not upset you, as it surely does not for I. Though it would be delightful to marry on the account of my own affections, I have accepted that it is for the best that I do not. However, I do not fear a loveless marriage. If the person I wed feels nothing for me, I will survive. After all, love exists throughout all things. _

 

_ There is a theory I have read about before, one that explains the different sorts of love that exists. There is Eros, the kind of love that pierces like an arrow that breaches the borders of your heart, a passionate sort of love .The kind of love I presume that you are beginning to feel. Then, there is Philia, the pleasant love that you share with those that surround you and support you. We share that sort of love, my friend, and I am sure that you have many others that you share it with too! There is also Storge, the love you have for your family, the solid marble pillars built around you to protect. I attribute this love to my relationship with Gerda, who has been in my life steadfastly, longer than mine own birthmother. Finally, there is the sort of love that I truly believe in, the love that is most powerful. Agape is the sort of love that exists endlessly in the world around us. It is in the nature that we adore, within the air that we breathe, and also tucked in the warmth of the sunshine we bask in. It’s the love you have for kind strangers, the love that you feel welling up within you as you dance joyfully in a crowd of faces you will not remember. I feel that you should not fret so much about this love, and instead, embrace it when you are ready. You are already loving so many things, Mingyu. You love your father and your dog. You love the bakers that bring you fresh bread. You love the friends that you joust with and the ones you write letters to. You love the beach and the sun and the flowers. I hope that you love yourself, too. Be kind to yourself, as you are kind to me. Be gentle with your heart, and do not degrade yourself for allowing love to enter you. It is glorious. You are equally as glorious. Regard yourself as such.  _

 

_ I can feel the love within this drawing you’ve sent me. Must I continue further? Because of the love you have put into this blessed art, I will hang it up to admire and love it as it was intended to be. Though, the more that you send me, the more I am worried. I do not know what I could send you in return for such wonderful art. The thought and work you put into this moves me so, but I am unworthy to keep receiving gifts when I have done nothing to warrant them. You need not give me anything else, until I have thought of something I can share with you! Promise me that you won’t spend an ounce of effort on a gift for me when I see you next! It will be sooner than we both can imagine. Until then, I will wait excitedly to see my beloved friend once more.  _

 

_ Oh! I hope you enjoy the little sunflower I have quickly drawn in the corner. It seems that I truly am no artist. I will save that title for you, who deserves it much more than I.  _

 

_ Yours,  _

_ Wonwoo.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated both of my fics today because i'm legally a clown
> 
> next chapter will be another long one-- might take me a lil while, but also i'm traveling this week and i'll have a lot of time to just write so.. we'll see how it goes
> 
> catch up w me @bigcaratfool on twitter


	12. In August, A Reprimand

Skyward the Crown Prince stares, the dawn breeze tossing still-wet strands of hair across his forehead. From his comfortable spot on the balcony, he watches as the sun champions over the moon as she does every morning. Victorious is she, as yellow begins to tinge the horizon. Mingyu imagines the saints, bare bottomed and white winged, that have taken out their paint brushes to begin their masterpiece. They must be flying across the Heavens, and with broad strokes, they begin to paint the sky a warm peach color, with pink like a rosy blush following after. Birds begin to sing, interrupting the hush of the morning, chirping happily in their trees to wake up their feathered friends and families to begin their day. 

 

Mingyu wonders if his people would wake so serenely, as happily as those birds. 

 

Though he was unable to make his way to the beach, just this moment was enough for him. The sunrises of the summer often felt bittersweet, as though the hundreds before had not mattered until summer had decided to go to sleep. Yet, Mingyu did not feel so sorrowful today. He felt rather joyful, in fact. Today he would be seeing his beloved Wonwoo again. 

 

Thinking of that man’s name brought shivers up Mingyu’s bare back, as if Cupid decided to tickle his spine. He giggled at nothing, smiled at the blooming sky, and retreated into the sanctuary of his room to dry his hair and clothe himself. 

 

His finest linens he wore, adorning himself in the colors of his country. His garments were white, from the innermost shirt beneath his vest, to his outer layers of his pants and his coat. Rather plain, but his epaulets shone a sturdy gold, with similarly tinted tassels hanging low, two chords for camaraderie and cavalry tied in a knot and attached to his gold silken sash. He attached each medallion carefully, wearing gloves to keep each one in pristine condition. 

 

When he had turned his head, the sky was now a brilliant blue, and it seemed that the rest of the world had finally woken up with him. He slipped on a pair of shoes and moved to close his balcony doors, finally prepared to face his day.

 

The palace was already bustling, just as noisy as it always was, but the servants had to have an earlier start than usual. As did the Prince, but it wasn’t he who was performing such tedious labor. He simply oversaught the activities of the servants who had to ready a room for the Council later, and kept an even closer eye on the ones who were preparing the bedchambers Wonwoo would be using.

 

Though Mingyu is like his father in many ways, he is not the same in that the young man boasts of his sharp eye for precise and meticulous planning. His father is likely to allow a coordinator to decorate and make things look nice, but Mingyu would much rather the details be left up to him. After all, there are not many men who rival his taste in luxurious design. 

 

He takes a quick walk to the room he had designated for his guest, peeks inside to make sure that none of the maids were lingering, and steps cautiously into the room. Light poured in through the large windows, showcasing the sea in the distance behind the tall iron gates that surrounded the perimeter of the palace. He makes his way to the bed, with soft sheets freshly pressed, and smooths his hand over the surface. His beloved would rest his head here, he would close his eyes, and to Mingyu’s hopes, dream pleasantly. 

 

Mingyu reaches into his pocket and takes out a little gift he had prepared for his guest. He tosses it over in his hand, admiring the small brass sundial compass that shone dully in the well-lit room. He traced a finger over the gnomon of the sundial, and with his fingernail, he pressed it into the crack of the device that would reveal the compass. It flicked open easily, and Mingyu felt a bit hot in the cheeks as he read the engraved message there.  

 

_ May the sun lead you back to me. _

__    - M _ _

 

 

He closed it slowly, savoring the seconds, and brought it to his chest. He listened to his quiet soul and allowed his heartbeat to throb steadily against his gift. It’s a habit he had kept from his childhood-- He always somewhat believed that if he had wished for something close enough to his heart, it would come true. 

 

Gently, he set the sundial compass onto the pillow and traced his finger of the edge of the pillow before stepping away from the bed. He has a few second thoughts, finding it rather childish that he would leave such a gift, but decided that it would be a waste not to give it to Wonwoo. Though, he might just die if Wonwoo mentions it. 

 

He flees from Wonwoo’s room and down the hall, hoping to busy himself with a different matter until his guest arrives. Luckily for him, just after he had finished his morning meal, a maid had come into his study to bring him the good news. Now, Mingyu didn’t want to seem too eager, but upon news of Wonwoo’s arrival, he still sprang upward and raced through his house in order to meet the man before he had even stepped out of his carriage. He stopped just short of his front door, caught his breath and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with his exposed wrist, before squaring his shoulders and making his way through the entrance of his palace. 

 

Wonwoo’s carriage seemed to carry the essence of his flowery fields, a deep purple finish underneath golden vines that swirl over each rounded corner of the buggy. Mingyu admired it as it rounded the corner and stopped before the staircase, and a coachman tipped his hat at the young maid at Mingyu’s side as it slowed to a stop. She giggled quietly, and Mingyu turned his head to raise his brow at her. She was unfamiliar, as most of the maids tended to be due to his father’s constant overstaffing, but Mingyu paid no further mind to her. After all, Wonwoo was just inside of that plum colored carriage, and that was enough to make Mingyu’s heart soar. 

 

As the coachman hopped off from his seat to open the door, Mingyu swore to himself that time was bleeding much too sluggish, passing before his eyes like a snail creeping along atop of leaf. Sweat began to gather up in his inner layers, watching as the handle turned _ oh, so _ slowly. The heavens were being conservative with their time, but the moment that Wonwoo’s form descended from the carriage, like an ebony stallion emerging proudly from a stable, Mingyu couldn’t breathe. 

 

Though the morning sun’s rays radiated brightly upon the pale paved roads, it seemed like Wonwoo had brought shade to the entire world. He, cloaked in navy blues and silver chains, had brought the glory of moonlight with him in the midst of the day. It took all of Mingyu’s strength to keep his mouth screwed shut, despite the growing looseness of his jaw. 

 

Wonwoo’s bangs hung low over his eyes, and yet he stood tall, broad as he righted his posture. His cane thunked loudly against the stone beneath him, and his open-front cloak flapped gently behind him. It was a stunning dark blue, like the night sky that comforts the silent moon, giving her a bed to lay upon. Three silver chains connected the front of his cloak, and the wideness of the opening exposed a vest dyed the same deep blue as his cloak and his high waisted trousers tucked into boots that cinched his pants below the knee. The white ruffles of his jabot tie were disturbed by only a shining sapphire in the middle, and the clean white blended with the long sleeves of his undershirt that gathered at his wrists, held there by dark ribbons that clung tight to his wrists. His hands were hidden slightly by the loose fabric of his shirt, and concealed the rest of the way by black gloves that matched the ribbons around his wrists. 

 

Mingyu’s eyes met Wonwoo’s, and he’s immediately entranced by those sharp eyes. Yet, as a second passed in mutual staring, those eyes were already beginning to round out, smoothed by a blooming smile that was forming on his plump lips. 

 

“You’ve arrived,” Mingyu speaks, positively breathless, in awe of the man that looked to be the moon.

 

“Ah, so I see you have eyes.” Wonwoo replies, though his sarcasm is far from being thinly veiled. 

 

Mingyu doesn’t even attempt to hide the smile that splits his face, and he immediately descends his staircase to stand beside the man. He holds out his arm, which Wonwoo takes without hesitation, and Mingyu allows himself the luxury of being close to the man, even if it is only for helping him climb the staircase. Wonwoo tucks his cane beneath his other arm and gives a quick nod to Mingyu, signalling his ready. However, Mingyu can’t help but focus on the slight thickness of Wonwoo’s arm. 

 

“You seem to be doing very well,” Mingyu hums, his hand travelling upward to squeeze Wonwoo’s upper arm. 

 

The Prince of the West chuckles before speaking again, 

 

“You can tell?” 

 

“Of course, your Majesty. I’ve memorized each of your features already.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

Mingyu turns his head away to silently curse himself, and begins the ascension up the stairs to distract the man beside him.

 

_ Boorish fool! What twit was I raised by? Had they not taught me to hold my tongue?  _

 

“My travel here wasn’t bothersome, if you were wondering.” Wonwoo speaks, interrupting Mingyu’s onslaught of mental bashing.

 

“Ah-- Ha! I hoped that it wasn’t! Sorry, I simply forgot to speak.” 

 

“I sure hope that won’t happen often. Who else will I speak to, if not for you?” 

 

_ Pull yourself together, damn you! Mother did not teach you to sew for no reason!  _

 

“A fine point, my friend. I will not let my words escape me too often.” 

 

For the most part, Mingyu is able to keep his promise rather well. He takes a fine stroll with Wonwoo within his home, leisurely making small talk about Wonwoo’s travel as he leads his guest to his room. Even then he’s finding it quite hard to focus on the conversation, thinking mostly of how Wonwoo seems to need less help, his steps sturdy and his cane thumping lighter against the ground. 

 

“I’ve noticed that you were the only one who stepped foot from your carriage. Have you come alone?.” Mingyu starts. 

 

“Is it odd that I have come alone?” Wonwoo tilts his head, and Mingyu shakes his own, probably a bit too violently. 

 

“Not at all! I was simply wondering if you had reasoning for it. It’s common for most to bring an advisor along with them to events of diplomacy” 

 

“Somewhat, I suppose. I haven’t thought about it on my way here, but there truly are no hands I trust other than my own to handle the matters of my country. It is my duty to do so, is it not?” 

 

“Truly, it is! There are no doubts in my mind concerning the willpower that you possess!” 

Wonwoo grins gently, turning his head to admire the delicate design of the clean white wallpapers, shining leaves of pearlescent ivory only revealing themselves as the sun’s rays warm them.

 

“Though, maybe I am not so good at planning everything alone. I intended on arriving yesterday, but we had taken a few extra stops than needed, and now I’ve got one less day to spend in your company.” 

 

“I see no problem, sir. We can have tomorrow for ourselves.” Mingyu says, using his free hand to pat Wonwoo’s hand that was linked in one of Mingyu’s arm.

 

With Mingyu’s muscle memory leading the way, he stops in front of the room he’s reserved for Wonwoo before his eyes had even processed that they had arrived. His arm falls away slowly from the man, and even more hesitantly takes a step backward. 

 

“Here, sir, your chambers.” Mingyu says, bowing slightly before continuing, “I assume you would like to rest before the meeting.” 

 

“Ah, that I surely cannot do! But a bit of privacy will do me well. I have plenty of things to ponder.” 

 

“Right, well, I hope your thoughts are plentiful.” 

 

_ Idiot. _

 

Wonwoo huffs out a small laugh, and it embarasses Mingyu down to the tips of his fingers, making him feel pink and shy. 

 

“I will, my friend. Thank you.” 

 

Wonwoo turns and makes his way into the room, but stops just short of closing the door behind him. 

 

“Where and when will the meeting take place?” 

 

“I will send a servant to fetch you when the time has come. You need not worry.” 

 

Wonwoo nods, but still does not move. Mingyu starts to feel warm beneath his layers again. He wants to ask why Wonwoo continues to stare at him, presumably an uncomfortable angle from how he turns his head over his shoulder, but he certainly isn’t complaining. 

 

“It is very good to see you again, Mingyu.” 

 

The door comes to a slow close after that, and Mingyu stumbles on his own feet in an attempt to catch himself. Somehow, he had been knocked backward onto his heels, just by the weight of Wonwoo’s words. He allows himself to breathe again, his hand falling behind him to steady himself on his wall. Overdramatic? Perhaps, but being able to express his inner turmoil helps to keep his soul within his body. 

 

_ The gift! _

 

The thought alone is enough to make Mingyu move again, turning suddenly to walk briskly and inconspicuously down the corridor, away from the man who was sure to find that sundial any moment now. He certainly didn’t want to be there for it! How embarrassing…

 

Hours pass as guests slowly trickle in, with Mingyu at the forefront of every greeting. Each face is familiar, but there are some faces that are much more friendly. Favoritism is so prevalent within royal relationships, but Mingyu feels no guilt about it. Not when he can open such friends with open arms. 

 

One of the first to arrive, to Mingyu’s delight, was a childhood friend of his. Seungkwan, Prince of the Eastern Islands, spent many days at Mingyu’s palace when his older sisters simply wanted him away. Though he is the youngest of his family, his elder sisters have charged him with the task of handling relationships with other country. Though Seungkwan will never rule, he seems perfectly fine with it, talking mostly of his  _ glorious  _ free time as Mingyu leads him to his gardens for a bit of tea. 

 

Queen Adelaide, presiding over the region in the Northwest, was next to arrive. Though significantly older than Mingyu, her sights were always a bit set on his wealth. Despite young Mingyu favoring partners a bit older than him, he was always quick to deny the woman’s advances. She eventually married someone within her own court, and now seemed rather overjoyed in flaunting the jewels her husband has bought her, yet her hand still seemed to linger over Mingyu’s arms. 

 

In her company was Prince Silas of the Southeast, who was relatively silent and mild mannered compared to the vivacious Adelaide. Not much was known about Silas, a relatively young and new addition to the Alliance, but Mingyu thought that he was a nice man. Nice enough, at least, to continually attend the Council meetings as attendance dwindles. Such kindness did not mean that he wasn’t greedy, quick to spring at an opportunity to gain.

 

Soon afterward, Prince Jeonghan of the Southwestern Plains arrived, who did not care to join the conversation once he had laid eyes on Prince Silas. Mingyu happily led him to his libraries, and there Jeonghan seemed much more conversational and pleasant. Mingyu had known Jeonghan for a while, and though not as closely as Seungkwan, there was a change in the man that he couldn’t quite grasp. Was it the stress of presiding over the third largest landmass in the Alliance? Perhaps, but Jeonghan’s quick tongue seemed more poised to strike now than in the past. 

 

When Mingyu had made his way back downstairs, there was another familiar face for him to greet. A bit overexcited, Mingyu angered the stern King Jihoon of the Northwest by invading his personal space just a bit too suddenly. However, Mingyu was quickly forgiven. Jihoon was a bit soft for Mingyu, not forgetting the years they enthused over music together. Mingyu often thought that Jihoon would’ve made an excellent musician in another life. Jihoon kept Jeonghan company in the library, giving the Prince time to greet the rest of his guests. 

 

Close to being late, King Kibum of the Northeast arrived last, though he was the first to be led straight to the Council room. Kibum was a man that Mingyu thought very highly of, and though not too far in age, Mingyu admired the man as if he were a God. If there was someone better at planning, cleanliness, design, dancing, sword fighting, and perhaps even handsomeness, it was surely Kibum. 

 

Though seeing familiar faces made Mingyu’s heart feel warm, the dwindling numbers of those in attendance did quite the opposite. As servants fetched each attendee, and more bodies filled the room so carefully prepared, the rock in the pit of Mingyu’s gut grew just a bit bigger, a bit more heavier. Such dutiful people the other members turned out to be! They can attend any of the parties that Mingyu’s father holds, but not a council that oversees and upholds the treaties important to the safety of their respective countries? 

 

The murmur within the conference room is moderate, the empty seats filled by advisors and scribes rather than other royalty, and it’s just enough to make Mingyu silently stew over his own thoughts. 

 

_ Were my invitations not enough to stipulate a higher attendance? Is my name not as valued as the name of my father?  _

 

The dull thud of Wonwoo’s cane against the ground approaching is enough to distract Mingyu from his thoughts. He stares at the door, waiting anxiously for them to part. When they do, it’s as if every breath of air had left the room. Under the tip of his cane, gravity has become a mere effigy within Wonwoo’s control, and with each step he takes the ground beneath him shifts slightly. 

 

The muted conversation of the Council had gone entirely silent, all eyes trained on the man who made his way through the room like a comet shoots passed the atmosphere. 

 

Wonwoo sits in his chair, squared and tall, and rests his cane against the table before looking up at the other inhabitants.

 

“...Good day.” He speaks, his deep voice almost reverberating off of the thick walls. 

 

Mingyu forces himself to tear his eyes away, and just ahead of him, Yoon Jeonghan stares at him with a priggish grin. 

 

It dawns on him then that Jeonghan was certainly in attendance for his birthday party, and he must recognize Wonwoo from that night when they had stumbled about the ballroom floor. 

 

Mingyu shifts in his seat and clears his throat, all too aware of Jeonghan’s eyes burning into his vulnerable spirit.

 

“I hereby call for this meeting to commence, the third and final Alliance for Peace Treaty meeting within the present year, lest any urgency arise. If there is any urgency to speak of, then do so now.” 

 

He pauses, his eyes scanning over the group before him, before continuing. 

 

“Excellent. So then, we begin.” 

 

For the most part, the conversations had circulated around the state of the economy, which was rather fine, but there’s a bit of a line between a relayal of information and a sizable dose of boasting. Money always tends to be the food that feeds the brightest of flames, and some torches have already been lit. Adelaide had lit her fire with an unnecessary bit of bragging about the influx of wealth her marriage had given her, which subsequently added to the richness of her land, and it had descended into organized chaos when Silas decided that he had to brag a bit too. When Silas began bragging, it was as if some unholy candle had been lit inside of Jeonghan, competitive and unrefined in the way that he spoke of his treasures that remain dominated by his family alone. 

 

Quickly exasperated, Mingyu tried to interject a bit, asking if anyone else would like to contribute to the conversation, but it didn’t work much. Dearest Seungkwan remains a pacifist who doesn’t want to cause trouble, and the rest simply sit and watch as their time is wasted. Mingyu tries to ready himself to fling himself into the fruitless war of words some of the council had enveloped themselves in, but is interrupted. 

 

“I believe that this matter is the least pressing of our concerns, and if there is no further contribution that is worthwhile to our cause, I suggest that we move forward.” Wonwoo speaks, his deep voice washing into the room like a high tide. 

 

“And who are you to request this?” Adelaide says, her nose scrunched with her usual displeasure when she finds something to be unbefitting. 

 

Wonwoo smiles, but it’s different from the face that Mingyu had developed a tenderness for. It feels as if it’s a mere mask he had donned, his sharp eyes unmoving from their cold appearance. 

 

“I’m glad you asked me, your majesty. You may refer to me as Sir Jeon Wonwoo, and I have come here in attendance in absence of my mother, the Queen of the Western Tradelands, Jeon Chun-Ae. Any further questions, madam?” 

 

Adelaide, now silenced, huffs and sits back in her chair. However, Jeonghan leans forward, setting his elbows upon the table and propping his head onto the cradle his hands present. 

 

“Ah, interesting, so  _ that  _ is the land that you oversee. I had been trying to contact you for a while, good sir. Does my name ring a bell, Wonwoo? I am Yoon Jeonghan, the future ruler of that nation bordering on yours.”

 

“It does, your majesty, and I do not wish to speak to you of matters concerning my land.” Wonwoo’s smile does not falter, despite being stared at with a serpent’s heedless gaze. “I have come here for reasons that would benefit more than just my land.” 

 

“Oh? Do tell. Would it happen to involve our dear Mingyu?” 

 

Jeonghan’s eyes turn on Mingyu, and Mingyu sends back a look of warning, with furrowed brows and pointed eyes. 

 

_ Watch yourself, Yoon Jeonghan.  _

 

However, Jeonghan does not relent. 

 

“He’s a rather smart man, even going as far to invite the representative of a land as small as yours just to gain favor--” 

 

For the first time in a while, perhaps since his youth, anger flashes through Mingyu’s body, his own candle lit with the flames of fervent rage. 

 

However, he doesn’t get to feel it for very long. Wonwoo’s hand tightens on the top of his cane, lifts it high, and cracks it against the floor just once. 

 

The immediate sound of the heavy golden tip of the bottom of the cane pounds hard against the marble flooring, and the thickness of it causes several of the council members to either gasp, or shift in their seats with their shoulders raised high. 

 

With one action, Wonwoo had commanded silence and respect, manipulated the air so that it would bend to  _ his  _ will, and none other. Slowly he rose from his seat, his eyes narrowed on Jeonghan, and then to Adelaide, and then darting about the room to pierce through the clouded spirit of each person who sat in attendance. 

 

“Have you only come to voice your own selfish, harebrained desires? If I’m not mistaken this is a convening of-- what I would suppose to be-- witful powers, not mere children who haven’t yet learned the difference between childhood’s wooden swords and the deathly grip of real blades. I do not wish to pit myself against you, nor my people against yours, so don’t make me wage war right here and now by bashing your head into the ground by the crest of my cane!”

 

Wonwoo’s voice rises slightly in tone, gripping the handle of his cane harder in his hands until his knuckles are white. 

 

“A diplomat is no man of violence, but if you refuse to act your role, then I will not be given a choice in treating you in the way that you deserve! Have you not come for some sort of greater importance? If we cannot put forth the fruits of our education and our high standing, then we waste our lives gluttonously, satisfying only our own greed. Discuss not of your own wealth, of the power that you wish to attain. Can we not draft better plans for our future? To further our ambition of peace? There still exists hostile lands not too far from our own borders. God forbid it ever happens, but shall we not discuss a plan of wartime protections? The chairs here are empty, this Alliance will continue to dwindle if we do not uphold a sense of solemnity! If we undo the work of our parents, then what good will our comfortable thrones do? Go on and flaunt if you wish it, but I assure you, that this mirage of power will end the second that a blade is turned to your throat. Have I been heard?”

 

No one speaks, not one person dares it, to breathe even the smallest of utterances against the man. One of Wonwoo’s brows raises, and he leans in over the table a bit, as if listening further. After a moment, he pulls away and sits back into his chair, but his cane does not slip from his grip. 

 

“I, actually,” Jihoon speaks, though his voice is a marginally quieter than Wonwoo’s was, it is a pleasant break from the silence, “I have come to discuss an unfriendly territory that has been increasingly infringing onto my borders, and I fear that without action from our combined forces, we will not suppress a war.”

 

“And I, my dear people, wanted to detail a plan of mine to lower trading tariffs between island lands not apart of our Alliance.” Seungkwan says, his voice somehow even softer than Jihoon’s. 

 

Another moment of silence passes, a moment in time when not even the singing birds outside dared to contribute. 

 

“Well, then,” Mingyu speaks and clears his throat in hopes that it helps to clear the thick air within the room before continuing, “We shall begin with each matter in order it is presented. Jihoon, would you mind telling us more?” 

 

“Certainly, I can.”

 

Miraculously, quite a bit gets done in the following hours. The afternoon meeting bleeds on into the early hours of the night, with the kitchen maids having to prepare a large dinner to accommodate for the guests. Afterward, after much work had been finished, but so much more realized, it’s agreed upon that they would meet again the next day at the same time. The royalty gradually left, weeding themselves out, until the palace fell quiet. 

 

Mingyu, exhausted from the day, immediately went his own way to retire. Since Wonwoo seemingly had done the same, Mingyu felt no worry in entertaining his guest further. Hell, was his presence even necessary?

 

He thought about it as he undressed, stripping himself of his layers and making himself comfortable enough to rest. 

 

Wonwoo was so easily able to control the situation, with not only his unblunted words, but with the way he held himself. There was nary a moment when Wonwoo did not seem to be upright, astute and prepared to navigate a conversation. A true emissary, and really, a much stronger one than Mingyu could ever hope to be. He’s friendly to a fault, finding it hard to silence people when they’ve begun speaking. It’s… quite a flaw for a future king. Wonwoo would have no issue with that in the slightest. He even had the grit to intimidate a room filled to the brim with power…

 

Mingyu had thought it once, that it would be up to him to protect Wonwoo, both his name and his legacy, but it seemed that Wonwoo was perfectly capable of doing that on his own. 

 

The moment he was able to collapse against his bed, falling limply with a sigh, there was a small, hesitant knock on his door. Mingyu groaned softly, but peeled himself off of his sheets anyway and grumbled the whole way over to his door. Upon opening it, he no longer felt any reason to grouch. 

 

Wonwoo stood before him, wearing only the same amount of clothing that Mingyu donned. If not for seeing Wonwoo like this during the Sunfluery festival beforehand, he would have felt incredibly shy in seeing that man in such a low cut and sheer shirt again. Yet, he only feels embarrassed for the people within his palace. 

 

Mingyu reaches out to tug on Wonwoo’s wrist, quickly snatching the man into his room. Wonwoo stumbles forward, but quickly catches himself with the assistance of his cane, and blinks up at Mingyu in a daze. 

 

“H-Has anyone seen you here?” Mingyu says, his grip still tight on Wonwoo’s wrist.

 

“Only one guard patrolling about, I simply asked him where your room was.” Wonwoo blinks again, “Is there an issue?”

 

“W-Well, not much of one, but--” Mingyu sighs. “Most of the time, it is expected that those in the palace are to be respectively dressed.” 

 

“Oh!” Wonwoo says, quiet and soft as his mouth rounds out to match the sound. “Well, I am terribly sorry!” 

 

“You need not worry about it. I’m sure the guard you spoke to didn’t think much.” Mingyu sighs, and takes a step back from Wonwoo for his own sake. “What brings you here?” 

 

“Ah, yes. I have come here, haven’t I? Um…” 

 

Mingyu raises a brow, his head naturally tilting to the side. Wonwoo sounds entirely different from earlier. Perhaps even a bit demure. 

 

“Even at this hour, my spirit was lessened, remorseful that I could not spend yesterday with you, and furthermore denied you company this morning. So, I had thought that maybe you could show me that shore you always wrote to me about?” 

 

It’s Mingyu’s turn to feel nervous now. No, Wonwoo’s sheepishness has spread. 

 

“Are you sure? Even at such a late hour? It’s a bit far, and…” 

 

“Well, you have horses, don’t you?” 

 

“Indeed, sir, they rest in my stables.” 

 

“Then,” Wonwoo pauses, just long enough for a grin to spread on his face, “What distance could stop us?” 

 

It seems that Wonwoo’s smile is contagious, as well. 

 

It is quite a task to make their way through the silent house, and although there is no rule barring Mingyu from leaving the estate at any given time, he finds pure elation in peeping past corners to make sure they would find nothing but empty halls, away from the eyes of the guards. Wonwoo shushes him continuously, in order to fend himself from Mingyu’s infectious giggling, but the two make it away from the silent castle undisturbed. Even the horses call no attention to the men that scrounge the stables, and allow the for the both of them to ride away equally undetected. 

 

Down a series of tall hills the pair of horses valiantly trotted, carrying two giddy and guileless princes as they feign a race down onto Mingyu’s serene shores. The seabreeze sings familiar songs to Mingyu’s listening ears, and he easily navigates the way down as he follows the silent melody. The whisper of the waves grows louder, until the call becomes a soothing chant. When the two have reached the limit of the land, with only calm waters ahead, Mingyu hops down from his steed. With a sturdy hand he offers Wonwoo assistance down, the reins of his horse safely tight in his other hand. The man takes it and hops down from his steed, and Mingyu easily lets go to let Wonwoo walk forward. 

 

Mingyu watches as Wonwoo continues downward, slips off the shoes that bog him down, and allows his cane to softly plop onto the sand. Mingyu quickly ties the reins of their horses down to some posts, and kicks off his shoes to make his way to Wonwoo faster. 

 

Wonwoo bends down, kneeling onto the sand, and slowly cups the fine white grains into his hands. 

 

“It’s colder than I imagined it would be. It’s soft, too, like silk as it slips from my fingers.”  Wonwoo speaks, spreading his fingers and returning the sand back onto the ground. 

 

“The sun warms the sand as she shines with the day, it’s chilled now by moonlight’s cool kiss.” Mingyu responds, crouching down onto his feet until his ankles cannot hold his weight, falling backward with his bottom onto the sand. Wonwoo continues to play with the sand, tracing small shapes into the ground. After a bit of calm silence, Mingyu speaks again.

 

“I do apologize for letting the meeting run so long. I very much wanted to show you the shores at sunset, but we’ve missed it by quite a while.” 

 

“It’s fine. This is more than enough for me. I’ve never seen the sea up close before.”

 

“You haven’t?” Mingyu gapes at the side of Wonwoo’s face, open mouthed and fish-eyes.

 

“No, I’ve only admired it from the distance.” 

 

Wonwoo’s eyelids lay shut as he listens to his senses, the brush of the wind against his cheeks and through his hair, the chill against his skin that rustles through his loose shirt, the salty scent and the sound of the waves not too far from where they sit. Moonlight makes small strands of his black hair seem slick with light, and illuminates his skin, just slightly less pale than it was before. Perhaps the light exposed the his cheeks as well, seemingly a bit less gaunt, less shadowed and more full. 

 

“Do you like it?” Mingyu asks, much more softly than he had meant to speak. 

 

“Very much, I do.” Wonwoo replies, inhales deeply, and opens his eyes. “Though, I had more in mind than just this simple request.” 

 

Wonwoo turns toward Mingyu and gives a small grin. 

 

“What was it?” 

 

“I wanted to apologize to you. Your mood seemed to be significantly dimmed by my outburst during the meeting, and I feel deeply sore to have upset you. It was wrong of me to have gotten so upset, and—“ 

 

“No, dear sir, you had not upset me in the slightest! What you had done was a matter of necessity, and I know that if not for your level head, I would have had quite some trouble getting those fools back on track.” 

 

“What then, friend, upset you? I know you well enough to know that you don’t say silent for long, and you only spoke to mediate.” 

 

Mingyu turns his face away with a stifled sigh, looking out toward the waves that continue to roll to and from the sand. 

 

“It’s silly of me, really. I need not bother you with petty feelings.” 

 

Wonwoo moves, knocking their shoulders together. 

 

“I’ve listened to you babble on about feelings before. What would make this any different?” 

 

As always, Wonwoo has a point. Inconceivably, the man had been blessed with wiseness far beyond his years. Surely, it wouldn’t be harmful to be listened to… 

 

“Well, I… I feel buried by my own shame to even say it, but I had envied you greatly. I hadn’t expected it from you, I tell you truly, I was shocked! The power you have, that command in your voice. You demanded respect that I seldom get from even my own court! And I just.. I just—“ 

 

Mingyu buries his face into his hands and groans, just to tear his hands away from his face quickly. 

 

“I’ve become so keenly aware of my own inadequacies! When speaking to those of a lesser standing than I, of course they would listen! Yet when I speak in a room of those that are the same as I, I’m overlooked, overshadowed! I’m supposed to be the  _ head _ of the Alliance! I’m the future king of the largest landmass on this continent! Shouldn’t that be enough to garner respect?” 

 

“Mingyu,” 

 

“All of this time, though I have strained for so long, my efforts in becoming a respectable king have been for naught! My judgement may be sound, and my intentions may be righteous, but no, it matters not! I feel as though those damned scornful eyes view me as a mere jester with a crown atop mine inflated temples!” 

 

“Mingyu!” 

 

“I have exhausted myself, trying to shoulder so much weight, and as more is added, I fear that my father was incorrect about my capabilities. I can hardly lead a conversation, I cannot command respect from my peers. Am I even worthy of my position? I very well may not be!” 

 

Wonwoo grunts, shifting from his place next to Mingyu, to in front of him. Mingyu, now silenced, watches as the man sits back onto his calves. With both hands, he reaches for Mingyu’s face and cups both of his cheeks with firm hands. 

 

“You will have to excuse my actions, dear friend.” 

 

Mingyu’s mouth drops open to respond, but before he can, Wonwoo’s hands falls from Mingyu’s face. One rests upon his shoulder, and the other winds backward. 

 

Swift and quick, Wonwoo’s hand makes contact with Mingyu’s cheek, delivering a slap so forceful that Mingyu’s face follows through with the hand that hits him. 

 

His worldview tilted by his shaky vision, and his eyes welling up with tears of reflex, he’s hardly able to make out the ground from the sky. 

 

Gently, Wonwoo moves the hand that rested upon Mingyu’s shoulder to guide his face forward again. 

 

Mingyu’s hand comes up to touch his wounded cheek, cautious fingers afraid to brush against his own skin. He gawks, staring at Wonwoo in stunned silence. Wonwoo moves Mingyu’s hand away to caress his plush cheeks with both of his hands, his thumbs sliding slowly over the warm skin.

 

“I do apologize, Mingyu, but it was the only way I could silence you. You speak like a madman! Do you not see your own potential? The skill that you currently possess? You should not envy the prowess of others, lest you devolve into a glutton. Instead, focus on your already numerous skills. Perhaps you cannot speak with a tongue as sharp as mine, but you are so wonderfully kind. You could probably befriend anyone on this planet with only a single smile, and that same smile can diffuse even the toughest of situations.” 

 

Mingyu blinks, and although he looks dazed, he clings to each and every word Wonwoo speaks. 

 

“You have time to improve, if that is what you wish to do. You have until spring, correct? Each day that dawns gifts you a new opportunity to refine the skills that you wish to possess. You and I, my friend, we have both been born into this. I believe that you are a natural born leader, even more so than I. It’s high time that you start to believe in that. You need to have faith in your own capabilities so that you can grow to become your own type of ruler. But if you so choose it, you are more than welcome to follow my lead.” 

 

Wonwoo smiles, curling his thin fingers over and behind Mingyu’s ears, his hands finally resting under the sides of Mingyu’s jaw. 

 

Mingyu’s cheek still stings, but the pain is dull in comparison to the thunderous beat of his heart and the rattle of his ribcage. 

 

He wanted to articulate just how much those words meant, how much he  _ needed _ to hear such a speech, to know that even one soul believed in him despite his shortcomings. Though his eyes are now dried, his emotions outpour instead.

 

“I,” Mingyu starts, his voice merely a soft croak. 

 

_ I thank you. I needed you to comfort me. I need you.  _

 

_ I presume now, more than I could have predicted before, that I am in love with you. _

 

Mingyu’s hands, now shaky and unsturdy, come up to loosely cradle Wonwoo’s neck. He pulls Wonwoo forward, their foreheads meeting slowly and gently. Mingyu turns his head, rubbing his hair against Wonwoo’s. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to feel everything as it comes, but locking it tight within him. 

 

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth.” 

 

Wonwoo’s warm hands fall slowly from Mingyu’s cheeks, and as he does so, Mingyu opens his eyes. Wonwoo pulls away, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes wide. 

 

“Wh-What?” Wonwoo splutters, sounding unintelligible for the first time. “What are you going on about now?” 

 

_ How charming,  _ Mingyu thinks, the rest of his unease washing away. He chuckles softly, hiding his smile behind the backside of one of his hands. 

 

“Do not mind me. Here, just enjoy this hour. The night does not pause for us. Enjoy the sights around you, and I shall be here beside you.” 

 

Wonwoo squints, a question formed clearly with his eyes, but he says nothing. He returns to his original place, close to Mingyu’s side. 

 

Though it seems not so, Mingyu performs a great act of bravery, leaning slightly against Wonwoo’s arm, inching just a bit closer than he had sat before. 

 

The two fill the time by simply stargazing, with Wonwoo pointing his fingers high into the air, tracing out the constellations that Mingyu never learned the names of. For just a while, that imperceptible weight that had been fixed upon Mingyu’s tired shoulders isn’t felt anymore, and he relaxes, allowing himself to focus on nothing but the sound of Wonwoo’s voice and the way that the present feels. 

 

Strength drained slowly from Mingyu’s exhausted bones, and with heavy eyelids, he leaned against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Though his body yearned for rest, he warded off the strong clutch of sleep. 

 

“Wonwoo,” He speaks through the growing thickness of his own voice, “Thank you, truly, for listening to me. Though I have made many friends, there is not one soul that I trust more, that I would value higher, than you.” 

 

It doesn’t matter to him if Wonwoo properly heard him, or if he had even said it. Perhaps he was only talking to a dream, his consciousness slipping further from him with each passing second. Before he could listen for a response or say anything more, his breathing evened out, dreaming softly against Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

 

Wonwoo listens to the sound of Mingyu’s breathing, slow and quiet, as his body burned warmly against his own. He sighed softly, and allowed himself the forbidden pleasure of leaning his head against Mingyu’s.

 

“We are more alike than I would have thought.” Wonwoo whispers, hushed amongst the rolling waves. “I, too, would follow you to the ends of the earth.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to my beta aimee once again for tackling this meaty update 
> 
> a LOT happened but i try to make up for how short the letters are with these big updates, so i really sincerely hope you enjoy it, i worked really hard on it lol at one point i was starting at my document for like 5 hours straight so when i went to lay down and get on my phone on twitter the font was different and it felt like i didnt know how to Read 
> 
> anyways i worked rlly hard on this so feedback would be appreciated!!!!!!!!!!!! if u enjoy please consider coming back for the next chapter!!!!!!!! also thank you so so much for 30 followers on my fic twitter @bigcaratfool i would love to do a fic giveaway some day
> 
> n e ways... YA'LL READY FOR SOME MUTUAL FUCKIN PINING HELL?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! >:D


	13. In August, Revisiting Ancestry

“Good morning, mother. It’s been quite a while since I’ve spoken to you.” 

 

Mingyu stands before a stout hydrangea tree, marked with small pearl iridescent rocks. He used to collect pearly shells and pretty rocks for her as a small boy, and his mother kept them in a little trinket box that now sits atop the mantle in Mingyu’s room. He didn’t have much time to collect rocks anymore, but he still left pretty ones at the base of the thin tree trunk.

 

“I hope you aren’t mad at me. I’ve been busy, but I’m sure you’ve heard from the gardeners that my coronation date approaches. Will you let me sit with you?”

 

He waits a moment, allowing the breeze to answer his question. With a whiff of the sweet fragrance that the flowers give, he decides to sit. Blades of moist grass tickle his exposed ankles as he crouches beneath the tree. He’s a bit big for it now, standing taller than the first few branches of the tree, but he wanted to spend some time with his mother today. He had something important that he wished to tell her, after all. He tucks his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs to keep him there, scrunching up as if he were still a small child. Branches hang low, nearly touching Mingyu’s shoulders, like the way that his mother’s arms would rest as he enjoyed the afternoons of his youth with her. 

 

There’s a bit of guilt inside of Mingyu for not visiting quite often. She had died when he was in his first year of his adolescence, a rowdy eleven year old boy trying to shed the skin of a boy to become a young man. He hadn’t been very sweet to her then, wanting to spend more time with his friends outdoors rather than to stay inside and sew with his sickly mother. It was only in her last few months that Mingyu realized her importance, when she had taught him her greatest lessons. Even on her deathbed she smiled at him, touching his face and singing to him softly, as if Mingyu was the only thing that mattered. He should’ve treated her better. He should visit her more often.

 

With a smile, he nuzzles the thin trunk of the tree as if it were her chest.

“The weather has been hot lately, hasn’t it? I hope you aren’t too warm. I, however, feel quite feverish lately.” 

 

His mother was a gossip, a woman who loved to chit-chat about anything succulent. If there were rumors of love, a drama between maids or lords and ladies, she would demand to be the first to hear of it. After she had passed, he would share each and every morsel of a scandal with her, of happenings within the palace or a secret of his own.

 

“Mother, I think that…” He sighs deeply, throwing an arm over his forehead as he fawns, “I think that I’ve fallen in  _ love _ .” 

 

He chuckles at himself, allowing his arm to drop back onto his knees.

 

“I am not using that word so lightly this time, either! It’s different. He’s wonderful, mother. I’d love for you to meet him. Maybe I’ll bring him to you soon.” 

 

He hums, reminiscing of his fleeting romances he had had in the past. When he was nothing more than a child, he had a tender heart for a maid who often served him his meals and read him stories when his mother couldn’t. She was kind and sweet, the sort of young lady that always smelled like roses. She had eyes as blue as the feathers of a bluejay, and hair as brown as the chocolate within the cakes Mingyu loved to indulge in. Soft-spoken she was, and gentle her singing voice, Mingyu daydreamed about her often. His mother taught him how to make flower bouquets so that he could deliver her flowers. However, as soon as he had decided he loved her, she had gotten married and had a child, leaving the palace to become a mother. 

 

Mingyu was so heartbroken then, saddened that some gross old man had taken his beloved away, until he realized that he was only nine and she was ten years his senior. The man she had married was only two years older than her, but Mingyu continued to be sour over it for an entire year. Perhaps the sting of his first crush had kept him away from falling for another, as he hadn’t fallen for anyone else until he was well into his teenage years. 

 

After his mother had passed, he had become more interested in sport, entertaining his father with achievements of horsemanship and jousting. He had become quite good at whatever he had set his attention to, athletic in spirit and in body. Whether it would be archery, swordsmanship, horse racing or a fight, all courts seemed to favor Mingyu. However, there was one boy that he just couldn’t beat. With hair as sandy blonde as the beaches he loved, and a body thicker than his castle walls, it was impossible not to be attracted to such a pinnacle of handsomeness. Mingyu spent most of his days with him, keeping his feelings silent and away from his competition’s ears. Yet, when Mingyu had begun to surpass him, his feelings had went away as the competition faded. Eventually, he had found himself more handsome than that man, anyway. 

 

“I think that you’d like him. He’s very gentle, I fear that if I held him too tightly I would crack his spine. Yet, he scares me. I’ve never heard a voice deeper than that of a cello, but heavens, he speaks so deeply that my heart flutters with every word that he speaks. I’ve only heard him angry once, but such a bark sends chills down my spine. I think I would be sent into a quite a lustful frenzy if he had directed such a stern voice at me.” 

 

The branches rustle together in the breeze, and Mingyu laughs. 

 

“I do apologize, mother, was that too much? I will keep my words chaste. I simply think that everything about him is too handsome to be of this world… I think it often, but he must be made of the stars. He is as dark as the silky skies after midnight, and yet, his smile is warmer than the day. I am smitten with him, but not just because of his looks. He’s intelligent, wise beyond his years, and yet…”

 

He sighs deeply, sadness floating upward from the deepest pits of his spirit. 

 

“He’s very sick, just like you were, dear mother, but he lives each day that way. He doesn’t see himself living a long life, and such a thought wounds me deeply. How could the gods be so cruel? To give this world such a blessed and wonderful man, just to give him only a slice of the life that he deserves? I want to hand him the world. I want to pluck all of the flowers in every single country and deliver him a bouquet of beauty befitting of him. I want to carve him crowns and sew him cloaks and slay great beasts for him, just if it would make him smile at me. Did you feel this way about father? Did he make your heart race just by sitting near you?” 

 

He reaches up to touch a petal, as if playing with a lock of his mother’s soft hair. 

 

“I wish I could hear you. I would be a good son now that I understand the importance of simply listening.” 

 

He fidgets with the pink petal until it weakly plucks off of the circle of flowers it lays with. Slightly panicked, Mingyu yelps. 

 

“Oh, dear! I’m sorry! Did that hurt? How clumsy your son is! I must repent with my blood! My blood!” 

 

He wraps his arms around the trunk of the tree, rubbing his face into the harsh bark as if such a fervent nuzzle could relay an apology. 

 

“... Your majesty?” A servant clears his throat, and Mingyu quickly tears away from the tree. “Y-Your breakfast is ready.”

 

“Oh, ah, thank you. You are excused.”

 

The servant bows, trying his best to keep a polite grin on his face, but Mingyu can tell through such a stiff expression and a quivering lip that he’s trying his best not to laugh. Mingyu, pink cheeked and embarrassed, sighs into his hands. 

 

“This whole kingdom will believe me to be a fool someday. How horrid a fate I have.” 

 

He straightens out, tearing his hands away from his face to crawl out from under the tree, standing up to touch a branch with his hands. 

 

“I have another long day ahead of me, dearest mother. I hope that you will rest well again today. Your son misses you.” 

 

He leans in, pressing a small kiss to a small pink flower, as if kissing one of his mother’s lovely tanned hands. 

 

“I love you dearly, mother. Please wait for me to bring my beloved to you. I hope you will approve of him.” 

 

He pulls away, giving one last smile to his mother’s hydrangea tree, before retreating back into his palace. 

 

After breakfast, there was hardly a moment of spare time throughout the day. The guests had once again arrived in that usual orderly fashion until it was time for the second Alliance for Peace Council meeting. Though Mingyu still had an inkling of shyness within him, with Wonwoo’s scholarly guidance, the gathering went rather smoothly. An invitation of treaty was penned and signed to a region up in the North, revisions to the Alliance’s budget were made successfully, and there was hardly a fight or bicker that could bother the work done. It was probably due to the heavy aura Wonwoo brought, hawkeyed as he stared down royals who looked as if they wanted to cause a fuss. 

 

Mingyu, though there was quite a lot to focus on, could not tear his eyes from that man. Jeon Wonwoo sat still, as if he were a stone gargoyle atop the sturdy gate of a quiet graveyard. His aura was like a focused storm, a cloudy sky at twilight, a taunt for those fool-hearted royals to dare and come forward. His cane like a sharp of iron, an unforgiving pike to skewer the heads of unjust criminals. Glinting eyes deeply focused, as if there could be nothing more important than each moment he observes. 

 

It made it hard for Mingyu not to twitch in his seat when he would accidentally lock eyes with Wonwoo. He would glance over to a document on the table, redirecting his attention back onto the tasks at hand. Yet, his mind would continue to scream, his body nothing more than an echoing chasm of  _ Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo! _

 

Existing that way was Mingyu’s own dedicated prison. Until the group had dispersed, Mingyu held his tongue diligently, waiting for a moment that he and Wonwoo could simply exist near each other without anyone else around. However, when that excited puppy of a prince finally had the chance to greet his guest, Wonwoo simply requested the time to lie down and rest. It was a question that didn’t need asking. Though disheartened, Mingyu allowed the man to do as he pleased. He busied himself instead with sealing documents and delivering them to his advisor for forwarding to his council. 

 

When nightfall came, Mingyu still had a surplus of energy the sun had graced him with when he had first risen in the morning. While walking aimlessly through his manor, he’d come across the pedestal he’d picked out specifically for his little puppy. He’s been quite the neglectful parent to Aji lately, busy with his work and his travels, with hardly a moment to spare… Teary-eyed just thinking of it, imagining Aji whining as she gazes sadly from a windowsill, he decides to search for her, with a new goal of making her little day better. 

 

Oddly enough, he couldn’t find her. She usually trots about, following the scent of food or a nice maid that would allow a bit of pestering, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. The chefs had not seen her in the kitchen, the gardeners hadn’t spotted her in the gardens, and Mingyu had no luck when he’d peered into random rooms hoping to find her resting atop a couch or a bundle of expensive cushions she shouldn’t be on. Worriedly he rushes through corridors, calling out her name with raised whispers. After a while, he began peering into closed closets and beneath beds, only to find every nook and cranny completely empty, devoid of Aji’s eccentric snuffling. 

 

He’d avoided the library, knowing that Aji usually doesn’t have much to do there, but he wasn’t left with any other choice. That, or, checking with Wonwoo if he had seen her. Mingyu refrained from doing so, anxious at the thought of disturbing his dear friend. It left him no choice but to search  the library while he mentally prepared a manhunt for Aji. 

 

The candles lining the walls had not yet been put out for the night, warming the large space with a comfortable glow. The maroon walls seem even darker as the golden shelves gleam with the flicker of distant tiny flames, the grand fireplace unlit due to the warm weather. The darkened corners of the library make it seem even larger, further spacious without any sign of life. 

 

Mingyu turns the corner, wading through a maze of crowded bookshelves to check if the chairs near the fireplace might be occupied by his puppy. Instead, he finds a figure, a book held close to his nose. Instantly, Mingyu knows who he’s disturbed. The broad yet slender frame of Wonwoo is unique, and the soft curls of his hair appear nightly in Mingyu’s slumber. 

 

“Reading my books without my permission, hm?” Mingyu hums, making his way forward. 

 

Wonwoo’s shoulders jolt upward and he fumbles with the book, looking like he nearly drops it before his back goes rod straight. Mingyu chuckles as he makes his way around the chair to sit in the one across from it, but his amusement is cut short by a quiet gasp. 

 

Aji sleeps soundly, curled up into Wonwoo’s lap, snoring comfortably in her sleep. 

 

At first, Mingyu swoons, his heart soaring again at the reminder of Wonwoo’s gentleness, but it leaves him as quickly as it comes. Envy replaces it. Why does Aji never want to lay with her master like that? Why Wonwoo?

 

Though, if he were a dog, he’d probably want to be curled up with Wonwoo too. Hell, he wants that for himself even now. 

 

“U-Um, Good evening, Mingyu.” Wonwoo says, obviously trying hard to calculate his words. His hands rest firmly over the front and back covers of the book, but he quickly readjusts, hiding the book firmly in his arms. 

 

“Good evening, Wonwoo. You can browse whatever you want. I’m just giving you a bit of grief. What are you reading?” Mingyu tilts his head, resting his arm to get a bit more comfortable. 

 

“Ah, I do apologize for being invasive,” Wonwoo clutches the book tighter to his chest, drawing Mingyu’s attention directly to the white leather. The tips of the book are lined with a heavy gold, darkened by the deep green fabric Wonwoo has chosen to wear. 

 

Immediately, he knows what book it is. He’s read through it many times, and although only once voluntarily, it was a book of only mild interest to the Prince in his younger years. 

 

“Why are you reading back on my family lineage?” Mingyu raises a brow, a teasing grin on his lips. 

 

Wonwoo sighs, moving the book from his chest and into his hands, holding it out for Mingyu to see. Mingyu’s teasing grin blooms into a smile, proud of his correct answer. 

 

“It was mostly curiosity.” Wonwoo says as he sets the book aside, leaning back into his chair. His eyes dart downward, looking sideways at something Mingyu doesn’t care to look at when he’s got a prince he could be staring at. Sheepishly, Wonwoo speaks again, “I wanted to see what sort of family could raise such a magnificent man.”

 

Mingyu’s heart flips in his chest, the beat reverberating through his body like the loudest of drums. If not for his will to keep himself going to exist near Wonwoo, he surely would have perished. He saves himself with a smile, leaning on his fist.

 

“Well, I’m flattered.” Mingyu drums his fingers on his cheek, echoing the loud beat from inside. 

 

Yet, his internal symphony stops and his face falls slightly when he has the intention of teasing Wonwoo a bit, to ask of his own family with the intent of using cheeky courting words, only to be reminded of that haunting hallway in the furthest wing of Wonwoo’s mansion. Wonwoo, though next to Mingyu, was displayed in that hallway of phantoms, of those who had already passed. 

 

He has so many questions he could ask, but they are likely questions he wouldn’t want the answer to. Even still, they nag, pinching at the edges of Mingyu’s mind until he’s numb with thought. 

 

“Pensively you sit, sir.” Wonwoo’s voice, smooth and low, quiets the raging storm. Mingyu finds himself focusing on the tip of Wonwoo’s nose, shining somehow in the dim library. As Wonwoo speaks again, Mingyu stares at his lips. 

 

“What perplexes you so?” 

 

Mingyu clears his throat, tearing his eyes away as he feigns a cough behind his hand. 

 

_ What does a fool say now? What heresy am I allowed to speak? _

 

“I was wondering if you would find it rude to ask of your family.” He forces a grin back onto his own lips, “From what great tree does your fruit fall?” 

 

Wonwoo, though broad, seems to shrink as he pulls back into his chair, folding his arms and smiling a sigh with a bitten lip. Mingyu, unable to read the change in atmosphere, foolishly pursues.

 

“It’s not fair that you get to know so much about me when I know so little of you.” 

 

Wonwoo’s eyes flit upward, meeting Mingyu’s spirited gaze. Finally realizing how daft a man he is, he wishes to swallow his transgressions, to choke on his own tongue. He expects to be chided, scolded for his insolence, but Wonwoo does nothing but look down at his own hands. 

 

“The history of your hand is great. Your family have always been conquerors, gods amongst men, kings of all kings. My land has not been so fortunate. I speak no words of slander, I respect my parents and the brave souls that ruled before them, but misfortune is a mistress that has slept in the bed of my family for generations. Ay, it is not a pleasant story.” 

 

With the best of his courage, Mingyu reaches out, resting his hand atop both of the other man’s.

 

“I tell you truly, sir. I would listen to no tales as earnestly as I would hear any of yours.” 

 

Mingyu wouldn’t have dared to dream it, but Wonwoo moves a hand to rest atop of Mingyu’s, his gloved thumb sliding slowly over the back of his ungloved hand. He draws in a breath, measured and slow, and looks up at the ceiling. 

 

Above them is a mural, an artistic interpretation of the stars, of constellations known and of stars perhaps only dreamed of, twinkling far in the distance. Wonwoo stares at the small expanse of space painted there, slow blinking eyes glazing over, as if traveling back to the past. 

 

“You’ve heard it all before. You’ve been warned not to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors, told of those ceaseless wars before our births, and having warily listened to hundreds of years of bloodshed, of wars ended and battles continued, we accept the borders we are confined to, of the wealth we must distribute with our citizens. Your land has had countless heroes, knights that trot forward to victory, sieges won strategically by men born for the military, glory has made friends with your country and your family.” 

 

Wonwoo’s eyes fold closed gently, and his smile spreads just so, “We have not been so lucky.” 

 

“Yet, despite the unfortunate hand that my country had been forced to hold, with borders closing inward and our miltiarian might long run dry, there was but one hope. My mother, born into the crown, had married a valiant knight, and as he quickly ascended the ranks, his strong will had reignited a fire— a reclamation of glory that we so desperately sought. He was brilliant, with a tongue as sharp and as mighty as his sword, it was like he was born to be a king. My mother was taken with him. Her affections weren’t wasted, either, he loved her too. However, she thought herself a useless queen, unable to bear a child. For years they tried, and he would valiantly leave, going off to fight for his land. Perhaps it was the stress of war that made her unable to conceive, but suddenly, the bloodshed stopped.” 

 

Wonwoo’s smile grew wider as he spoke, “I was born during that year, later declared The Year of Silence. Though the war resumed not too long after I was born, I lived happily with my mother for three years. However…” 

 

His eyes now opened once more, his smile fades.

 

“He was slain in my land’s final endeavor. He fell in The Battle of the Swan’s Song, and though he died, victory finally belonged to us. My mother was heartbroken, but Father had not left her without a parting gift. She lived on with purpose, and gave birth once more to Jeon Bohyuk.” 

 

Mingyu gasps, slack-jawed he speaks, “You have a brother?” 

 

“Yes. Jeon Bohyuk… He was the blessing my mother needed. You see, I have been a sickly child from birth. Bohyuk, however, had the spirit of my father. He was a wonderful boy, with a thirst for knowledge and a durable health that made him strong, he quickly became Mother’s favorite. I loved him, too. As children, we were raised quite differently. He spent most of his time outdoors, learning the great art of battle and calvary, whereas I lived quietly in bed. When we were both teenagers, I had no qualms with supporting his future ascension to the throne. Though I am the firstborn, I have always known that I have been born with a limited life. Bohyuk was the prince that our country needed. I merely wished to have a place in his council, which he accepted. He was always gracious like that… Exceedingly kind to everyone.” 

 

“Is he why you live alone?” Mingyu asks, tilting his head, “Does your mother live with him?” 

 

“Well, no. You see, Bohyuk, for as wonderful as he was, was a flawed man. He was desperate to prove himself. While most prefer to deal with legal matters through diplomatic means, Bohyuk wanted to settle everything with the clash of a blade. At the first sign of conflict, he flung himself into a pointless battle. He was slain there. The country had lost its heir, and mother had lost her beloved son.”

 

Silence settles. Wonwoo clenches Mingyu’s hand, and Mingyu could do nothing but support, twisting his hand to interlock their fingers. After a moment, Wonwoo starts to speak again, his voice a bit lower and heavier than before, 

 

“When Bohyuk died, it was like something within Mother had, too. Though she usually helped me through my sick days, allowing me to rest at her side when the days were quiet, after Bohyuk had passed she wouldn’t even glance my way anymore. It hurt a lot back then, but I understand it now. I look just like Bohyuk. If not for our age difference, we could have been mistaken for twins. We both had the exact image of my father. I suppose that mother couldn’t bear having such a pitiful son anymore, the bastardized failure of both of the beloved men in her life; she moved as far as she could from me. Even now, five years later, she never speaks to me.” 

 

Wonwoo, finally finished, closes his eyes, composing himself by lowering his head and simply breathing. 

 

Mingyu, however, sniffles, loud and wet. 

 

Slow, hot tears trail downward from his cheeks, bitter with the salt of sadness. 

 

“My heart,” He sniveles, “It bleeds. It bleeds for you.” 

 

Mingyu rubs his cheeks with his free hand, unable to watch through the blur of his tears as Wonwoo’s eyes snap open. His hands move, mirroring the motion of Mingyu’s hands running along his face, but too shy to reach forward further and touch. 

 

“M-Mingyu?! Why do you weep? Gentle prince, please do not cry. I have not even wept over it myself.” 

 

“That only worsens this sting! If you will not bemoan, I shall pour out enough sadness for both of us!” 

 

Slowly Wonwoo shushes him, with a breath low and sturdy. He reaches out the rest of the way, laying his gentle hands atop Mingyu’s cheeks. Cool fingertips smooth over Mingyu’s burning skin like water washing over a flame, and the weeping man’s sniveling ceases. Those feeble cries die in his throat as Wonwoo’s thumbs brush away his trailing tears. Mingyu, chilled down to his very core, can only think simple things. 

 

_ When did Wonwoo remove his gloves? Why did he? _

 

“Be soothed, dear friend,” A warm grin spreads across Wonwoo’s lips, “These feelings are fleeting, just as our whole lives will undoubtedly be. Do you have much more reason to cry? Perhaps it is I who should weep, for making such a handsome man reduce himself to tears. A soft heart you have, you should be inclined to protect it. I am amazed by you, so unafraid to feel. You are endlessly admirable.” 

 

Mingyu’s mind has been successfully dumbed. His intelligence flown away, and his mouth hanging open, he is left without a single thing to say. After a moment he starts up again, scrambling for something to say, and he latches on to the only thing that makes him feel better. 

 

“You think I’m handsome?”

 

Wonwoo blinks. He blinks twice. And then he laughs. His voice, often mellifluous, now raised into a forte as he bends forward, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Mingyu’s. He laughs so loud that his body shakes, which scares Aji out of his lap. She scampers away, but Mingyu thinks nothing of her now. His eyes are glued to what he can see of Wonwoo’s face, closer than he would have ever imagined it being. 

 

Though Mingyu felt that Wonwoo was a strong man before, it’s only been confirmed, and his thoughts increased tenfold. Wonwoo is impossibly strong, and furthermore, intelligent, no--  _ brilliant _ , so driven and yet so kind… Mingyu almost finds upset within him again, anger that the damned Queen of the Western Tradelands cannot see the shine of her own son. However, he is calmed, assuaged by only his desire to make Wonwoo laugh like this again. He’ll think and he’ll say as many stupid or as many wonderful things to say in absence of his mother’s affections. He decides, watching as Wonwoo’s laughing settles into a much more usual grin, that he’ll be relentless. He’ll shower Wonwoo relentlessly with his love of his that brightly ignites his heart.

 

This love of his burns. It burns so brightly that these flames are nearly uncontrollable, charring him from the inside. In this single moment, he hopes that Wonwoo will someday feel this heat, that it will warm those cold hands of his. 

 

Wonwoo pulls away, sitting up straight with a sigh, and though Mingyu tried to chase him, he too had no choice but to pull away. 

 

“You never fail to amuse me, Mingyu, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. The expressions you allow yourself to wear-- absolutely worth more than gold.” 

 

Mingyu’s inner heat betrays him as his cheeks warm into a rosy blush. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s betrayed again, and he only huffs.

 

“The night only ages us, friend. It’s time that we both rest. I have already doomed myself to a miserable travel tomorrow morning by staying up so late now. Yet, I would like to take another moment to thank you, not only for the comfort that you give me, but for giving me the opportunity to reclaim my seat on the Council. I have never been more grateful for someone’s presence in my life than I have now for you.” 

 

A smile blooms on Mingyu’s face, his shy blush fading into confidence as he opens his mouth again, “And I, sir, have never been more grateful to look at someone than I have now for you.”

 

There’s a thump against Mingyu’s knee that makes him emit a shrill yelp, the culprit being Wonwoo’s cane. He bends over, cradling his knee, and stares up at the face of the man who had dealt him that blow. 

 

“You play me for a fool, do you?” Wonwoo can’t keep a straight expression, a smile still quirking at the edges of his lips. 

 

“I am not as light with my words as I may seem,” Mingyu straightens up, “I display my heart like the medallions upon my sash. If you would dare to look directly at it, you would see clearly the meaning of my words.”

 

Wonwoo squints into the air, his eyebrows coming together with creased confusion, his mouth parting to say something that a nervous Mingyu doesn’t give him time to say. 

 

“Don’t fret over it, friend. I will lead you to your chambers, it’s true that we should both rest. Even more so you, who has such a long journey ahead.” 

 

Wonwoo’s expression neutralizes, and Mingyu stands, holding out his arm for Wonwoo to take. It’s a rather short walk-- Mingyu remembered that Wonwoo liked his library, so he gave him a room not too far from it, if he so felt the desire to leisure there. As they approach his door, Mingyu began to feel selfish, and suddenly didn’t want to let Wonwoo go. Yet, the pair of hands on his arm loosen, and when close enough he reaches out to that door without a second of hesitation. Mingyu allows Wonwoo to step away easily, to go safely into his room to rest, despite the way his heart already sinks and struggles with a goodbye. 

 

He lifts his hand, giving a small wave, and Wonwoo stops. Through that sliver of door, Mingyu takes his last good glimpse at Wonwoo’s face, fair and smooth, yet sharp and handsome, as he nods his final goodnight. 

 

“Rest well, Wonwoo. I will see you away in the morning.” 

 

“...Yes.” 

 

Wonwoo doesn’t even blink, as if frozen in the doorway. There’s a wish in Mingyu’s chest, a wish to pull Wonwoo out of that gap and into his arms, to hold him for a moment before they’re separated for months yet again, but he knows he shouldn’t take that chance. What he has with his dear friend now is seemingly satiable for him-- to love is simply enough. 

 

“Goodnight, Mingyu.” 

 

The door shuts, and the heavy sound of Wonwoo’s cane gradually becomes more quiet, distant, until it isn’t there anymore. Mingyu lingers there, staring at the carvings within the wood. 

 

If he were to have reached out and held him, would Wonwoo have shied away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i w;ould just like to say i am So Sorry for not updating this fic for a whole entire month?? i made a lot of plans and i didnt have a lot of free time and was out of town for a good two weeks and i really thought i'd write more than like 1k a week but . yea . i hardly wrote at all and i feel bad about it but don't worry my only plans for the rest of summer is just. work....... and.. yeap thats it.
> 
> n e way ............................................................................... YEA . questions? comments? concerns? if u got anything to say u can say it here or hit me up at @bigcaratfool on twitter
> 
> big thank you to my "vip reader" (my beta) aimee u are my angel thank u for not getting annoyed when i shake my fic in your face and scream HELP!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!


	14. Letter Seven

_ Dearest Wonwoo,  _

 

_ With a burdened heart, I apologize to you. I had not thought that it would be so long until I could write to you again! Fall tends to be the busiest time of the year, as everyone scrambles to complete their duties before winter comes and halts us all with her gentle, yet effective force. I’ve been kept busy with bothersome tasks, such as checking upon the lords presiding in other regions under my reign, ensuring their fealty and providing aid if need be. It’s boring work, but knowing you, I’m sure that you would find it fascinating. Ah, I suppose I don’t mind it as much as I used to, though, I think that it is important to remember these distant places when I am kept within the confines of my castle. Plus, I have been watching my people simply live their lives. As I have been traveling, I watch as farmers harvest in their great fields, I watch as trading merchants set sail back home, or return to it, leaping from their boats to set foot on shore once more. I used to wonder what it was like, to leave and do what you must, leaving behind the people that you love for such lengthy stretches of time. I understand what it is like now, to be in a constant state of missing someone. Yet, as these merchants and fishermen greet the beach, to run toward the villages where their families await, I know well that bliss they feel when they come home. You remember why, don’t you?  _

 

_ Ah, I really, really wanted to paint you something. I thought about it the whole way home. I’ve just been quite fatigued, even though I am now back in my room. I think I might have caught a cold. My bones feel cold all of the time. It’s peculiar, I haven’t yet started to sniffle or cough, but I’m just freezing! Even if I sit directly in front of my fireplace, I still feebly shiver. Perhaps I should’ve closed my windows more often while I was on my journey… I’ve always gotten over my colds quickly though! As a child, I was never in bed for more than a single day! I think my body just doesn’t like to be bored. I’m sure I’ll already be spritely again by the time you’ve read this letter! Though, if I am still a bit sick, Will you give me a message that will warm me from within? That’s a bit foolish of a request. After all, just thinking of you makes me feel warm! Ah, I’m troubled now. It snows where you live, right? I might not be able to see you until spring…  _

 

_ How are you doing, my friend? Has the chilly air been causing you trouble? I do hope that you haven’t been ill. I was overjoyed to see that you were standing so strongly when you were at my palace last! Have you been able to bask out in the sun lately? It isn’t too cold for that just yet where I live. Oh, I can only imagine how beautiful it is where you are. It’s so lush in your land during the summer. I bet all of your forests turn those beautiful red and orange colors, like living in a sunset that never fades. When it gets cold here, the trees and the plants simply shed their leaves, leaving bare branches swaying in the bitter wind. The leaves don’t really change color, either, only further inward on the countryside they do, but even then, I won’t be there to see it. I am a seaside prince, and you know what, I’m quite proud of it. If I left the beach, I think I would dry out and wither like a fish. How silly. Writing that made me remember my foolish childhood delusions. When you were little, did you believe in mermaids? When I was a child, I thought that if I stayed out by the beach all day, singing loudly, a mermaid would answer my melody with one of hers. My strong belief in them was probably due to the fact that my mother often read me fairytales before bed to balance out the harsh lessons I would endure during the day. Mermaid stories were my favorite. Every time I had an afternoon off, I would run down to the beach and try again. Of course, I never saw one. They’re fictitious beings, after all! I just think that it would be wonderful if there were some mythical creatures lurking in this world. I’m too old to believe in fantasies, of course, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where such beings aren’t just a feat of imagination. _

 

_ To make up for my lack of a drawing, I’ve scent you some dried pepperberries! They smell wonderful, sweet and somehow a little tart, no, spicy? I like that scent a lot, and they look beautiful next to some pinecones. There’s a way to scent pinecones, my maids do it every single winter to freshen things up for the season, but I can’t remember how they do it. If you don’t like pinecones, they also look beautiful placed in a vase amongst fresh flowers! I hope that the scent lasts, even through the winter. I will gladly send you some more if you so request!  _

 

_ My friend, I wonder if you would find me scandalous if I told you so plainly that I miss you. I miss your smile, your laugh, your very presence… I hope that you will take no offense to this, but I do so desperately want to see you again as soon as I can. Will you find an excuse for me to drop by? My horsemen may not appreciate me much, but they did say that they rather liked your country. I’m sure that if I gave them a good enough reason, they would take me back, even through the snow… Ha, I don’t seem to be giving you much of an option, do I? Oh well. I will rest for now, and await more words from you later!  _

 

_ Thinking of you,  _

 

_ Mingyu. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [AIRHORNS] I GOT FANART FOR THIS FIC AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN
> 
> i'll post the link at the end of this but @/hblackstone on twitter has drawn an absolutely GLORIOUS wonwoo from chapter 12 and honestly like , ,,, i could not.,,,, i could not imagine a more perfect version of that outfit that i imagined on him like WOW the talent. THE TALENT. i just could not believe my eyes i woke up to that post and promptly cried my eyes out. also i cannot remember if i said this before, but without @/hblackstone dming me one day asking if i was going to continue cdf when i was literally only one or two chapters in and never posted an update for like 2 months, they messaged me if i was planning on updating and i gave em a very lukewarm answer and they were just so polite and respectful to me and if not for them reminding me that someone read my fic and wanted me to continue it.... we wouldn't be at chapter 14 today! so, yay! please go shower them with love, and not just on the art i linked below of the ch.12 wonwoo! please check out their other art they are so talented and its so worth it. i love u so much souds, thank you for making me care about this little passion project again, you are astounding <3
> 
> now, i hope u guys don't mind the shortness of this chapter! i've been in the process of getting a new job and that's been a lot on me but also i've got something a little bit special in the next chapter that i dedicated a bit more time to than in this chapter. 
> 
> thanks for readin! keep up w me @/bigcaratfool on twt
> 
> CH.12 WONWOO ART BY @/HBLACKSTONE v
> 
> https://twitter.com/hbIackstone/status/1144660150525071361


	15. Letter Eight

_ Dearest Mingyu, _

 

_ You never fail to humor me. My friend, you place far too much stress upon yourself! You take your duties with stride, but when it comes to acts of luxury such as our letters, you force yourself to apologize! Remember this well: I will never hold the time you’ve spent busy against you. You are a prince well on his way to become a great king, you are expected to be a busy man. Still, I am touched by your thoughtfulness to send me a gift even though you feel unwell.  Now that I have spoken to you kindly, I must sharpen my tongue. Sir Kim, do you not hold your health to high regard? You’ve gotten yourself sick, yet you worry over something as miniscule as timeliness? I sure do hope you are well by now, because if not, I will come and knock that sickness out of you! I’ve attached a list of medicinal herbs your maids may use as a reference for the next time you are ill. Even if you are well again by the time you read this, make sure that you stay warm. Winter approaches swiftly. _

 

_ With the gradual coming of colder weather, I do find myself in bed quite often. Not because I have caught fever, but I have a weakness within me. On chilly days, it hurts to walk, an ache deep within my joints begs me to stay tucked within my heavy sheets. Though I do try my best to walk around and get some exercise, I know my limits well. I do not push myself during the cold months. I keep my condition in mind, unlike a certain fool that I know. My dear fool, I praise your shockingly accurate imagination. As I write this letter, I gaze out of my window and admire the colorful leaves that fall from these trees hoping to grow their new attire when spring comes. I have had a lot of time to simply enjoy the views from my windows, as the cold weather brings a slow stop to most events of diplomacy. I’ve had a lot of time to think of how I can repay you for your kindness, in keeping me company through your letters and giving me opportunities to grow, sending me gifts and drawing me such lovely works of art… This surplus of time that fall has even me has allowed me to be a bit more creative.  _

 

_ I believe that I’ve mentioned it to you before. I enjoy writing when I can, not just letters, but creatively. I am a lover of fine literature, and sometimes when I am quite daring, I think of myself as a poet. Though I am not quite at the level of a worldbuilder, writing books is entirely too daunting, I feel like poetry is a lovely way to express one’s inner self. Not even that, but it is an art form in which you can appreciate the world around you with words that may be too heartfelt to say out loud. I’ve written something that I think I do not need to be shy of. I am not proud of it, but, as my dearest friend, I thought that maybe you could enjoy it. Indulge me would you? They may not be words that warm your heart, but they are words that come from mine. I do hope that is enough. This is a poem that I’ve written about dandelions.  _

 

_ Ill-fated those golden flowers,  _

_ Kissed once by sunlight,  _

_ To be doomed by blight,  _

_ A gray they become after the passing of hours.  _

 

_ Cotton-like those small plants be,  _

_ On fairy’s breath carried a pappus seed,  _

_ These spores unknowingly will breed _

_ Within the pit of one’s stomach, forced to nurse weeds. _

 

_ A contagion they are,  _

_ Twisting upward a weakening spine,  _

_ Unsympathetic of future bloodline, _

_ A disease in which blood can only try to spar. _

 

_ These feather-like bristles consume the lung.  _

_ Delicately these vines choke,  _

_ Lacking in the knowledge to bespoke _

_ Devour’d innards until limbs with no strength hung. _

 

_ To pluck the weeds from fresh skin,  _

_ An unforgivable sin.  _

_ Better to rot from within _

_ And show an uncaring populace a grin. _

 

_ Until these golden flowers bloom from empty eye sockets,  _

_ Vines twisted around callus bone,  _

_ Silenced these lips until they are sewn, _

_ Hiding cursed hands within cold pockets. _

 

_ I ask that you do not think too deeply of these words. They are simply a product of my own creativity. I believe that I have lied to you. This confidence in my creativity is quite fragile, shrinking with each moment that I imagine you looking upon this poem. I, ah, I’ve already written too much to completely rewrite this letter. My wrist will be upset with me if I do.  _

 

_ Will you be spending the winter with that lover of yours? You seemed to be filled with fervor concerning that person when we had last spoken through ink! How is your love life going? Have you made any progress? I sure hope that you have, you cannot ignore the matters of the heart forever! I’ve never been in love before, but to see my friend so taken with it makes me feel warm with happiness. I will support you even if you find yourself to be a fool. Despite how bold you can be, I know that you tend to be a bit timid at times. It seems that it will be my newest duty to motivate you. Act on your feelings soon! You are a strong man! I am sure that the one who holds your heart will feel blessed to have that dashing Kim Mingyu confess such vulnerability to them! The afternoon is still upon me now, I will go out and find the biggest leaf that I can. I will place a wish on it, and send it to you with this letter. I wish that your heart does not freeze in the winter. I’ve given you many gifts this letter, haven’t I? I will not spoil you much going forward, but I couldn’t help it much this time after I had read that you were ill. _

 

_ Please stay warm. I do not wish to lose my dearest friend! I will send this letter before I regret showing you my poetry. _

 

_ Thinking of you,  _

_ Wonwoo. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was good at poetry when i was in middle school but im 20 now and i am embarrassed /)///(\


	16. Letter Nine

_ My Dearest Wonwoo,  _

 

_ Touched am I, to have been granted this blessing, to gaze upon these words that you have spoken with your heart. Astonished am I at this talent that you possess. Wonwoo, tell me truthfully, is there a single thing that you cannot do? Well, even if you told me that there was just one thing you could not achieve, I don’t think that I could even believe you. Not only have you been born with overflowing handsomeness and intelligence beyond the bounds of what is conceivable, you have such talent. I feel them, the emotions that you bore while writing this piece; that serenity, that gentle sorrow. To make others feel because of something you have written, that’s a power acquired only with skill. It is distressing that you do not have much credence in your work. I would love it if you shared some more with me. What other kinds of poetry have you written? If I may, I beg to see some more!  _

 

_ Oh, to be given such a blessing from Jeon Wonwoo! To be picked by a poet that rivals those great muses to receive such poems! I feel that if you ever found a lover, I would surely perish with skin tinged a wretched green! Envious I am, just thinking of such sweet words that my eyes would never see! Perhaps that it is for my own wellbeing that I have not been chosen. How my heart would swell, to receive an honor as high as a lyric of love from your sturdy pen! Wonwoo, I beg you, do not find a lover just yet. I ask you selfishly, and in spirit I am on bended knees, that you do not fall in love. If you ever find someone, someone that can place stars in the sky to decorate you with, that you tell me first. I want to be a judge of such a character, to be your faithful advisor of to whom your heart is worthy. Yet, too harsh a judge I may be. I feel it truly, If the offspring of a god is all the heavens can offer, then work harder!  _

 

_ Suddenly, I have become modest. After being asked about the inner workings of my heart, I had no choice but to take a break, feverishly wandering in order to clear my head. Love has made me a fool, as you have stated, but I am alright with being your dearest fool. Yes, my heart still beats for one person, this pounding becomes more painful and immediate with each passing day. Yet, I fear his rejection. I do not want to repel him, more strongly than anything else. His happiness is what I crave, and if I can only watch it as a silent admirer, than I will bear these feelings silently. I cannot be too impetuous and assume that they would want to be snowed in with me during the winter. Perhaps a dear friend of mine would appreciate my company much more. Wonwoo, would you feel happy if I visited you? After all, your palace is so wide, it must be so cold when it snows. Perhaps an extra lit fireplace from your guest room would help keep you warm? I would like to pay you a visit…  _

 

_ I must thank you for worrying about my health, but I assure you that I was already back at my full health by the time a single day had passed after writing my letter! Though I am not quite sure when you would have received it, it seems that the quick postage that I have so frivolously enjoyed is no more as November creeps closer. I place no blame on our messengers who no doubt work tirelessly to deliver all of the letters that our loved ones so cherish. Has that fall chill become a wintery ice? Is it snowing yet? Though it is quite childish of me, I feel such excitement when thinking about snow! Ah, but more so than that, I hope that you are staying well. I’ve sent you a package ahead of time in hopes that it will come with this message. In your last letter you told me that you feel more pain in the cold, so I’ve sent you the thickest cloak I could find. I do hope that you enjoy the rich color of that purple dye, it’s quite an expensive color, you know! I picked it out for you myself! I had some unexpected free time, and I’ve used it up trying on cloaks. How ridiculous. But I do hope that it allows you to be a bit more mobile, it is a bit heavy, but it’s quite soft! I believe it’s nice enough to wear it both indoors and outdoors, but that is purely your decision. _

 

_ I still miss you terribly. Do let me know if I may barge in.  _

 

_ Eagerheartedly,  _

 

_ Mingyu. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> svt said EQUAL RIGHTS so in this chapter i will pepper in the fact that Gay


	17. Letter Ten

_ My Dearest Mingyu,  _

 

_ I cannot adequately express the absolute relief I felt upon reading your letter, and even so I feel as if I cannot fully accept the gratification your words have given me. To be lauded like this by the friend that I cherish so dearly is a feeling that is indescribable. It seems that you have given me many feelings that are indescribable. And though I still cannot fully grasp the true weight of your words, you have inspired me, you have planted a seed of inspiration which I have been nursing so diligently these last few weeks. You are a sensitive man, Mingyu, I hadn’t expected that poetry of love would be of your utmost favor. Yet, if you are the one that requests it, I feel as if I have no option to repay you with such words. I have busied myself with this task as the climate continues to chill. As is the same with each winter, time seems to slow down as thick white clouds curtain the sun, making it quite difficult to decipher what time it is just by glancing up at the sky. Yes, the sundial you have given me has proved to be quite useless these days, but I still keep it close to me. It is a gift from you, after all. The cloak you have sent me is in good taste, sir. I will use it well in the absence of this sundial’s usefulness. I hope that you enjoy this gift, as humble as it may be, as I have enjoyed all of yours.  _

 

_ Folded flowers, resting youths, in early spring, _

_ Such sweetness hidden in sleeping buds of babes,  _

_ Nectar stilled within petals, scentless and settled,  _

_ For his nose cannot yet detect it. _

 

_ On trees above, the Blue-feathered Jays do not sing, _

_ Chicks tucked beneath thine mother’s steady breast, _

_ In silence they remain, waiting to begin their refrain, _

_ For his ears cannot yet hear it. _

 

_ Great matriarchal woods shielding precious offspring, _

_ Concealed her pomes and drupes by curtaining leaves. _

_ Tasteful treasures remaining unrevealed, _

_ For his tongue cannot yet taste it. _

 

_ Brisk winds await, southward their travels predestined _

_ To sweep through fields and brush against water. _

_ Yet frozen the god’s gust remains halted high in northern mountains, _

_ For his skin cannot yet feel it. _

 

_ Rescinded, the shimmer of the midnight light _

_ To prepare dawn’s vivid spectacle.  _

_ Yet the morning’s eye remains behind the deep horizon, _

_ For his eyes cannot yet see it. _

 

_ Thick eyelashes fluttering in slumberous peace _

_ Gesture the winds, the birds, the flowers, and the trees, _

_ Return to life! For his first drawn breath hath signaled for all awakening. _

_ And so, the sun rises within the East. _

 

_ Mingyu, please excuse this brazen-faced poem. As I have not been in love before, I could not find a more suitable muse than my friend. If there is anyone on this earth who deserves to be spoken to with such sweet words, there is none more worthy than you.  It is not my intention to steal you from your lover, I simply wrote at your request. Does this make me dishonorable? Perhaps this will be my most fiendish act, to write something of this nature for someone whose heart has already been taken. I tell you with pure heart and pure intention, that I have written this poem for you as a friend would give another a gift. We give each other gifts often, don’t we? I would like it if we could continue doing such a thing for a long time. If you ever have anything you would like me to write about, I will do my best to try. There is no other man that I would go to such lengths for! Reflect upon this blessing. _

 

_ Now, my fool, are you really so lacking in activity that you wish to come here for the winter? Yes, there will be a festival, but I would much rather you spend your time safely at home in the East, where it is warm throughout the year. I would gladly open my home to you, but I could not ask such a thing of you or your coachmen. A long ride through the snow would prove to be quite laborious, and I cannot in good conscience allow you to risk your good health. If the weather grew to be particularly poor, it could double the time of your travel. There is already much distance between our lands! I could not fathom how dreadful it would be to become stranded in the snow! Furthermore, Wintungen is just around the bend. Wintungen is the holiday to spend time with family. I may not spend time with my mother, but it would make me happy for you to spend time with your father and spread that Wintungen cheer! You may not celebrate it, but I do think it would benefit you to reconnect with your father a little after the various scuffles you have had with him throughout the year. Perhaps surprising him with a gift will put whatever spat you two are on about now to a resolution. End this year gracefully, friend, and I will be more than happy to visit you in the spring. _

 

_ Though the cold may have made my heart seem warmer in comparison, I believe this is my warmest winter yet. I do not think I would be as satisfied with my accomplishments if I hadn’t met you. In fact, most of them are thanks to you! This year has flown by, hasn’t it? I won’t spare you my sentiments often, however, just this once, I will tell you: _

 

_ I am missing you. _

 

_ Wonwoo. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;^) HOWS ABOUT THAT! 
> 
> as always w my poems (i say as if i haven't only done two) i will post an explanation/thought process thread up on my twitter (@bigcaratfool)!!!
> 
> anyways i am always afraid of poetry but i hope that you guys liked it!!!! i hope you guys are sensing the themes that i've been brewing throughout the fic......


	18. Letter Eleven

_ My Dearest,  _

 

_ Though I have never been overly fond of the cold, I fear now that winter will never come. This heat within me blazes, boiling my blood until I cannot discern any sort of temperature. Feverishly I wander, and even out into the night, hoping to relieve myself from such relentless fire. Yet, there is no oasis, no moment of relief from this ardor that consumes all of my senses and leaves me in a haze. The seabreeze will not smother this inferno, no amount of bathing will soak away this heat. No amount of external dousing will extinguish what is internal. Will passion become my prison? I open to you this furnace within me, forging a key that fits only within your palm.  _

 

_ This is the impact of your poetry. This is what your words make me feel. This experience is unparalleled, but it is not agony. I cannot restrain myself much longer. This is an urgent matter, your majesty. There is not a single thing you can say that will dissuade me. I have made my decision.  _

 

_ Wonwoo, I care not if it snows, for I cannot even feel the frost with such fervor within me. I care not the borders and boundaries that separate us. My entire being aches with demand. I wish to see you. I wish to give you this key that will reveal to you all of my secrets so securely kept. It is more than a simple desire, I need for you to see my spirit, untamed, so that you can break this heavy fever. In body, in spirit, and in mind, I cannot bear this distance. I yearn to see you for even a moment, even if you lock me out of your palace. I would gladly sit outside of your gates, just waiting for the smallest sight of you as you pass by a window. Apologies for my lack of tact, but since Wintungen is not a holiday I have ever celebrated before, I do not plan to observe it unless you personally force me to. After all, I will be in your palace, won’t I? I have already explained to my father why I must leave so suddenly. I have received his consent, and I apologize that I cannot hear yours. At times, my dear, there are matters more important that formalities. I do hope that you will forgive me. _

 

_ I will send this letter with haste. I hope that you receive this message within three weeks time, so that you have proper notification of my arrival. If all goes according to plan, I should be arriving just a few days after you have read this.  _

 

_ Do forgive my impudence, your majesty. You may punish me how you like after I have arrived. Even still, I hope that you will welcome me with open arms.  _

 

_ Prepare for me. _

 

_ Mingyu. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday wonwoo :) i love you so much
> 
> ps: i’m on break at work rn so if there’s formatting error i will fix it later

**Author's Note:**

> nice to meet you, er, again. sort of. does anyone even remember anything i've posted before? probably not. my bad.
> 
> this is inspired by someone toxic in my life, someone horrible and cruel and awful, but still i remember them fondly. it's odd to follow through and write it, but this idea, this au was always something i loved more than they had. so i'll reclaim this. just like i'll try to reclaim the confidence i used to have for writing. 
> 
> i've already got the plot to this finished. i really will try to keep this one up for real this time.
> 
> edit: connect with me on twitter! catch me at @bigcaratfool .., i'd love to make friends!!!


End file.
